And so the sportive calendar rolls on…

…with another 5:15 alarm call dragging me from sleep and back out onto the road again.  Today’s target?  The Saddleback Sodbury Sportive starting from, as you may have guessed, Chipping Sodbury.  Not a first for me, I did their first one in 2012, which makes this their third, and my second.  But I had fond memories of it, felt bad when I was unable to do the second one when they asked me to, and so, here, or there, I was again this year.

HQ was an hour’s drive away, at Chipping Sodbury RFC.  Easy to find, and easily marshalled onto the playing field where the ranks of cars were slowly filling up and discharging lycra clad cyclists and their steeds.  With a positive weather forecast but a distinct chill in the air thanks to the wind, conversations all around were mostly concerned with what to wear.  Well, we do love to talk about the weather, right?  Before I made such momentous decisions, I headed off towards the clubhouse and found the registration marquee outside, as yet fairly queue-less, and for the clue-less, it was made easy – queue up by at surname ordered desks.  I duly signed my name, and collected my bike number (complete with integral timing chip) and two cable ties, before making my way inside to pick up a free cup of coffee, also known as warmth in a cup.

Right.  My turn for faffing.  Ooh, the dilemmas.  What layers to wear?  Would it rain?  Would the forecast be accurate…in which case it wouldn’t?  I shook off the ghost of Ride London past and decided that limb warmers and gilet were the way to go, and trusted that leaving the rain jacket in the car would not prove to be an unwise decision.  There wasn’t much else to do, so me and my trusty, and also cleaned, polished & oiled, steed headed for HQ together.  I trimmed the cable ties with the cable cutters provided – a nice touch that – and parked up so that I could use the facilities while waiting.  Even that only takes so long, so that done, I was amongst the first to be ushered into the start pen when it opened, having first had my number taken down, presumably to be used against me should the official system fail.  It was sort of considering being sunny as we all stood there waiting, and pretending to ignore the official photographer, which was nice.  Finally the time came for the rider briefing, complete with a top dressing warning, and the usual “play nice, be good, it’s not a race” warning from one of the many yellow tabarded Rotary Club volunteers.

Time to go then.  No fanfare, but nonetheless we were off, first to be sent on our way into the Cotswold countryside.  In boy, or make that girl, scout fashion, I was prepared.  Well, prepared in that I’d read my blog from 2012, and looked at the route profile, and knew that however nice the first few miles were, it was going to be less pleasant very shortly.  About five miles from the start there are three big hills.  Well I think they’re big, and they’re big when you haven’t warmed up and there’s no respite between them.  The Hawkesbury Howler, the Alderley Grunt, and the Tresham Tester, one after the other…and if I hadn’t known that things were going to get easier after that, the latter of them could have had me throwing my toys out of my cot and walking…it was hard work!  It takes me a good 45 minutes or so to warm up these days, and so I really wasn’t ready for them.  Still, I recovered fairly quickly, in time to not enjoy the aforementioned and recently top-dressed section afterwards.  I swear some councils wait for a sportive to be imminent and go out that week to sabotage it accordingly!

Onwards and luckily not upwards, through a constant stream of cutesy villages, and quiet country lanes.  The route split comes all of 11 miles in, and I didn’t even consider opting for the 60 miles instead of the 100, or more accurately 102.2, according to the Garmin file I’d downloaded the night before.  Nope, it was a right turn for me.  It was really windy out there, mostly in our favour initially, though once again having prepared for a change, I knew that that wasn’t going to last either.

Still, the first 30 miles or so passed by fairly fast, and I was the first woman to the first foodstop, a novelty value that lasted for about 2 minutes before I was no longer the solitary female there, but which I enjoyed nonetheless.  Located outside a convenient pub where normal mortals were completely ignoring the steady stream of cyclists in and out of the toilets inside, there was food of all sorts from savoury to sweet, including printed lists of ingredients for all the cakes on offer, something the less tolerant of us appreciated.  I settled for a banana and a bottle top-up before heading off again, determined to be first woman out there for a little longer.  She and her much larger wind-break of a male partner (jealous, moi?) didn’t leave me out there alone for long though, and I was shortly left in their dust.  Ah well, nice while it lasted!  Mind you, she did hold me up going downhill at one point, which just goes to prove I’m more of a nutter than she is, not that I’m any better at it I hasten to add 😉

It wasn’t long before we were heading the wrong way as far as the wind was concerned, and just to rub salt in the wound, it even started to rain.  I’m pleased to say it stopped fairly soon though, and the lack of rain jacket did not prove to be an issue, otherwise my sense of humour failure would have been complete.  As it was, life turned into a constant and fairly solitary slog.  I hate wind!  It felt like an uphill slog which, as it turns out, it gradually was, all the way up to the very pretty village of Minchinhampton and the Common beyond where a helpful sign informed me that I’d now done 50 miles…whilst considerately failing to mention that that left another 52 to do of course 😉  I took a moment to immortalise it and try and get a grip of my fed up of struggling self, before heading off once more unto the breach.

Somehow I had completely forgotten the hill that came instantly after the lovely hairpin descent into Nailsworth where, just briefly, I felt in control of my bike and all pro and stuff.  Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, how very European 😉  Then through the town itself, with the way ahead indicated by a camera-toting marshal at whom I actually smiled, and his smiley encouraging mate.  Ah, a yellow sign.  B*gger.  This would be the Nailsworth Nailer then.  Up and up and up, past pedestrians enjoying a sunny Sunday and cats crossing the roads, through and out of town to where you think it’s finished…and it hasn’t.  As I reached the roundabout where straight on was straight up, the road to the left was amusingly called “Another road” which was pretty much what I wished I was on 😉  Still there was a wind turbine to admire, and finally another helpful sign informed me that the hill was over.

I do like that – a sign at the bottom of each hill and at the end – proof that I am officially going up a hill rather than just feeling like I am 😉  And of course ups mean downs, and we all know I like them.  Sadly the next one was interrupted by traffic lights and then, once they had changed and a couple of us that had gathered there waiting were on our way through, a “lady” in a black 4*4 decided that even though her light was red, she might as well head up and plough through us anyway.  Well, we all know they own the road, right?  Shaking our heads disapproving, and maybe even tutting sotto voce, we carried on down the hill, and through the woods, around a gratuitous little extra loop thrown in, as it turns out, just to get us to the next hill…

Now, just because some smart Alec (or smart Simon!) realised that if you write a book about Britain’s 100 Greatest Cycling Climbs, a whole heap of lycra-clad sheep will buy it and then slavishly tick every one off, whilst swelling his coffers in the meantime, does not mean that your sportive has to include one of them.  D’ya hear?!  Nope, thought not…and this is not the first time a route has deviated just to include one such which, I’m fairly sure, it didn’t in 2012.  I’d remember going uphill for the best part of two miles right?!  Having read the description of Frocester Hill beforehand (see, said I was prepared), apparently “the gradient is all but uniform, steep, but it’s never a grind”.  Hah, bl**dy hah.  Just for once I was happy to take heart from the guys passing me with cheery words of encouragement and what I would normally consider to be patronising remarks as to how well I was doing.  Today I needed them.  To be fair, I’d probably have been much better off if I hadn’t gotten my head all bent out of shape today by worrying about the ACG trip to the Pyrenees…ie if I wasn’t enjoying this much, how the h*ll am I going to cope with them and that?  Cycling is so mental…and after hours of slogging into the wind, and now slogging uphill, my mood was going down in the same way as the road was going up – constantly!  Hey, at least it was sunny and the views behind me were nice, right? 🙂

Moan, winge, gripe…I know, I should button it…but it’s my blog, so it’s my way or the highway 😛  Inevitably, and finally, I made it to the top.  I was very pleased to find the next food stop shortly afterwards, even if it did interrupt my downhill progress, as my bottles needed topping up again and I needed a break.  Jelly babies for me this time, thought I was sore tempted by the marmite sandwiches.  I didn’t stop long, as I didn’t want to get cold or take root, and headed out again to fight the wind a while longer.

No more hills for a while, just endless country lanes on my own as other riders seemed few and far between, grateful for the good signage and the occasional marshals to remind me I was in fact on the right route.  I was definitely in the mental doldrums.  But not becalmed, that bl**dy wind made sure of that!  I just wasn’t enjoying it, was still fretting away, and when my right knee started to hurt in chorus with the already strapped up left knee, it all got a bit much and a few not very manly tears at all were shed along the way (just as well I’m a girl then).  Honestly girl, get a grip!  In retrospect it occurs to me that this was my second longest ride of the year, only my second over 100 at that, and the other one was back in June, so it’s probably not a big surprise that I was struggling a bit.  I’d also been hoping to do it faster than the last time but in the face of the wind and the altered route, I was disappointed to see that goal blown away early on, possibly setting the tone for what was to come mentally.  That’ll teach me to have ambitions above my station 😉

After a very pretty patch heading southwards along the hills above the Severn valley, finally I turned a corner, physically if not mentally, and that wind started to be behind me, with about 15 miles to go.  This didn’t stop me popping into the last food stop at the 91 mile mark – again I was keeping hydrated enough to need more fluid on board, and besides, how can I review the foodstops without stopping?  They were all well-stocked and staffed by friendly helpful volunteers – job done on both counts ;).

Inevitably there were a few more draggy climbing bits on the way back which probably only felt that way because I was tired and my legs had had enough.  Still, having had a quick peek at the map, up on display and helpfully marked out at the final stop, I was ready for them, and they were just part of counting the miles down.  By the time I rolled over the finish line, to a cheery chorus of cowbells and applause, I was more than finished.

I collected my goody box, checked my time on the spot – with 7:12 officially making me a Silver (must have low standards!) –  dumped the bike in the car, and headed back to HQ for free food.  Not my usual fare, but I didn’t care.  One Cornish pasty and potato salad (though you could have had baked beans instead) were mine.  Oh and a large glass of orange squash enhanced lemonade – my latest post-sportive craving is fizzy orange for some reason, and that they didn’t have at the bar.  And if I’d bought lager instead there’s a distinct possibility I’d never have made it back to the car, let alone home.  The food may not have been good for me, but man it tasted good!  I sat and ate it at a table outside, zoned out and on a slightly different planet, as the lady who tried to talk to me when collecting rubbish will attest, as I didn’t notice her existence for a good couple of minutes…oops!

Cycling time: 6:52
Distance: 102.9 miles
Avg: 15.0 mph
ODO: 6297.0 miles

There were showers, which I was half tempted to use, but with only a relatively short drive home, I opted for heading back and doing such in the comfort of my own home…where I also knew there was a bottle of restorative lager in the fridge with my name on it.  Well, not really, because that would probably make it Coca Cola and that wouldn’t have hit the spot half so well 😉  Somewhat later, having narrowly avoided falling asleep on the motorway, and having drunk my well-earned pint, my goody box turned out to be a souvenir travel mug.  Now that’s a goody.  Lovely though medals are, I’m thinking this is way more useful! 🙂

The Sodbury Sportive is a lovely well-organised friendly event.  I haven’t got a bad thing to say about it really, other than that the route could possibly be a bit more interesting, and it would be nice if they could turn the wind off.  But if wishes were fishes…  I’d do it again.  But I’d do it better.  Honest 😉

PS: And yes, I’m still fretting. Now that I AM good at 😉

PPS: provisional results are now out.  817 riders took part in all.  Only 10 women did the 100 mile route.  Out of them, I was third overall (missed second by just a minute).  And I came first in my category.  I feel a bit better about it all now 😉

Thanks to the generous and enjoyable hospitality laid on by event organisers MDCC, it’s safe to say that I slept like a log on Saturday night.  It’s also safe to say that such things probably don’t count as the most sensible way to prepare for a long hot sunny sportive…but hey, it’s not the first time my pre-event preparation has been less than ideal and it’s unlikely be the last.  It was however a very pleasant evening, and anything that means I sleep the night before is a good thing 😉

So, I was ripped untimely from the womb of sleep by my 5:30am alarm call, into a world where the light was alarmingly bright, and like it or not, it was time to ride a bike again.  I stuck my head out of the already open window and ascertained that not only was that bright light the sun actually shining, but it was already pretty warm.  Right then, time to pack away most, if not all, of the layer options I had brought with me.  The forecast was for hot and sunny with little wind, and although I might usually be dubious about that, since it followed on from several of the same, with more to come, it seemed more likely than usual that it might be accurate.  So, just one Cyclosport layer of kit on, my gilet in the saddle bag just in case, and nowt else, not a warmer of any sort in sight, which doesn’t happen often!  It was time to put coffee & breakfast bar & a banana in me, and put all the bags into the car for later.  Much much later…

Having been put up at the Passage House Hotel in Kingsteignton, it was only a short distance to the start at Newton Abbot racecourse, and since we’d all been warned about possible problems getting in and out of the venue, riding to the start seemed the way to go.  Just a couple of minutes was all it took, but time enough to establish that I wasn’t feeling too bad (there’s no justice *grin*), neither were my legs, and that I wasn’t going to need to get my gilet out.  Nice 🙂

Today was almost an ACG outing, and a small group of us gathered in the adjacent Premier Inn carpark.  Myself, Chris, Guy, Martyn, and Steve D were for the long route, and a couple of others, Gary and Steve A, were due later for the shorter route, as the ride has staggered start times, and colour-coded dossards and numbers so you can’t cheat!  We were all a bit early, and other than the odd trip to the loo, having registered the day before there wasn’t much to do, other than head to the start pens.  The first pen was pretty full so we opted to start the second one; we’re getting a taste for being at the front it would appear 😉  Mein host, Ron, was looking very dapper in shades of pink, and gave us all a long briefing to pass the time before the official 7:00am start.  You guessed it – it’s not a race, don’t drop litter, don’t take risks; be careful, watch out for the re-surfaced section (of which more later), don’t “water” the roadside offensively, and so on.  Ron also gave a shoutout to the various riders/press covering it, including me, which was amusing, especially as that meant everyone in the vicinity knowing who I was and that last night’s preparation had included rather more white wine than theirs! 😉  Still, other than the health & safety messages, the essence was that we should enjoy ourselves.  Well, although I’ve done this event before, and know it’s long and hard, that was my plan.  To spend the day enjoying cycling around Dartmoor in the sunshine.  Others had other ideas however…

The first pen was waved off, patriotically, at 7:00am, and a few minutes later so were we.  The first couple of miles were neutralised, with each group led about by an NEG outrider, presumably to spread us out and keep us well-behaved in town.  We were kept to a reasonable average speed – i.e. one that even I could do – but after a couple of miles we passed the timing point and were let go on our way.  Well, that pretty much sums it up for riding with the ACG for me today.  Within 5 minutes, probably less, they were off, without a second glance.  I know I should be used to it by now, but a quick “we’re off, have a good ride, cheerio” wouldn’t go amiss guys… *sulk*.

Right, just me then.  Ho hum, at least I wouldn’t have to try and keep up or hold anyone back, so it has its upsides too.  Talking of upsides…it wasn’t long before it was time to be going up the side of something.  One of the things the Dartmoor Classic specialises in is very long slow climbs that you can see from miles away, wiggling away into the distance, making you well aware of what is ahead of you!  I call them long slow climbs because that’s the only way I can do them, others can sprint up them and regularly left me for dust, as usual.  However it was still early in the day, and not too hot, so I climbed my way out of Bovey Tracey and up onto Dartmoor, enjoying the views of Haytor and the like, and amusing other riders by pointing the camera at them from time to time.  It was really stunning, and just reminded me why I was there and what the day was about.  However halfway through this climb, we hit the re-surfaced section, which was pretty unpleasant.  Trying to go up a hill, with fairly steep sections, on narrow roads, surrounded by other unpredictable riders is hard enough without doing it on what is effectively gravel!  It was a real relief when that came to a end…

I’m afraid I’ve lost track of the hills on today’s ride, except to recall there were lots of them, and quite a few I either hadn’t done before (I think the route has changed a bit) or had just forgotten.  Holne, Grimstone, Kilworthy…definitely not in that order.  It got hotter and hotter.  Eating was hard to do, though I tried, and I did make sure to drink.  My flapjacks were lovely but I just couldn’t eat them; today gels were the way to go.

At some point on today’s ride I met Mr Right.  Well, I didn’t actually meet him, and he was actually Mr Wright, to be fair, but these are the games that your mind plays when left to its own devices mid-sportive.  You see one of this year’s innovations is to have personalised jersey numbers, which meant you knew who’d overtaken you, who’d said hi as they did so (and thanks to those who did, much appreciated), and left you free to play mental games with their names in the meantime.  Hey, anything that passed the (considerable) time, right?

Another thing I quite liked was having the big climbs marked as such by yellow signs – with length, max gradient, average gradient, and name – so that you knew what was ahead.  And also that it really was a hill, not just your legs feeling tired and having had enough ;).

Still, by the time I arrived at the food stop at Princetown, I’d only done 35 odd miles in about 3 hours and it was already feeling like this was going to be a long hard day at the office.  Having said that, this is not to say I was suffering particularly, or not anymore than usual.  I was just aware I needed to sort my head out for the day ahead, and break it down into mentally manageable chunks to count down, etc.  For example, this was one third done.  By the time I was back here again, as this is also the second food stop, it would be two thirds done.  The last 15/20 miles of the route are fairly flat, so by that point there would only be 15 miles more or so of hills to be dealt with, which sounded doable.  Etc.

I topped up my bottles, used one of the “Ladies” portable toilets (proof I was reasonably hydrated), and enjoyed a couple of bits of both homity pie and spinach/feta quiche – figuring it was important to eat while I could, even if I didn’t really want to, and loving the savoury options.  One more thing to look forward to over the next 35 miles – another reason having the same foodstop used twice is good.  So, time to get going again.  The route split comes just after the foodstop, and I could have bailed, but I didn’t think being a bit lonely really counted as a good excuse, and although I could no doubt have dug a more plausible excuse out of my considerable arsenal, being a stubborn and contrary cow, I knew I’d kick myself if I did.  So I didn’t.  I just go on with it.

There were some lovely flying flat bits up on the Moor from time to time, and having done all that up, there were inevitably some amazing downhills.  I kept overtaking riders going down them, who would then catch me later.  One such commented that I wasn’t half doing some speed down the hills, I must know the roads.  Nope, quoth I, I’m just making up for the fact that I can’t go up them, which I was proving as they went past me again.  I do love downhills though.  Today my Garmin registered 49.8mph…though Strava says 50.8mph…ooh, so close *grin*.  Sometimes on the swoopy bits you could get enough momentum to get right up the next climb, which was a blast, and there was even a photographer on two of those occasions, I wonder if I look like I’m having as much fun as I was? 😀

The middle section played elastic time games.  Sometimes the time passed slowly, sometimes fast.  The lovely fast bit after Princetown faded into the past…  In addition to the lovely moor we had briefly left behind, here there were gorges and rivers and babbling brooks and all manner of pretty villages and lovely scenery which as I got tireder, I had to kick myself to remember to admire, as I zoned out a little.  After Tavistock, where the priest was actually baptising the penitent in the river, in front of a rubbernecking audience, came Kilworthy Hill which went on for a while…more than long enough for my amusement at the name to well and truly wear off! However once it was done, so was half the ride – another marker ticked off.  There was an easier section afterwards too, which was nice.  I’d forgotten about the foodstop at Lydford which turned out to be perfectly timed as I was starting to run a little low on fluid and it was starting to worry about it.  Having full bottles on a day like today is important!  I made up one to drink, and left one plain to make up later if necessary – the advantage of carrying your drink tablets with you.

After Lydford, there was lots Moor climbing, which is a bad joke I feel I can make since there are signs all over the place telling you to take Moor care! 😉 Having spent some time off the Moor, where things were a little easier, the respite, such as it was since it just meant the hills were a bit shorter and shadier not that there weren’t any, came to an end as we climbed back on to it.  Luckily the weather had clouded over for a bit which, as I looked at yet another climb disappearing into the distance, was a good thing, since there was nowhere to hide up there, and it was plenty hot without direct sunlight as well.

Time to get back to Princetown.  Only 5 miles to go, said the sign after the left turn that put me back pointing that way.  Good effort, keep it going, said the smiley man with his red flags, one of the many such cheery folk out today, marshalling every junction.  Hm…5 miles might not sound like a long way, but b*gger me, it took forever…  I poured water over myself, plodded along, up and up and up and somewhere around the 6 hour mark, even with the foodstop not far away, I realised that I was falling asleep, getting kinda wobbly, and that if I didn’t eat something and take a break pdq I would also be falling off the bike.  So I did.  Take a break that is, not fall off 😉  A couple of minutes off the bike, enjoying the view, half a bar and a caffeine gel and I was on my way again.  Eventually, as is ever the way, the hill was done, and I was on my way down the lovely little descent down into Princetown again, enjoying the way the breeze I was generating cooled me down and very relieved to now have two thirds of the ride done.

Right.  The homity pie was all gone sadly, and I wasn’t sure how well the spinach/feta quiche would sit, but I didn’t let that stop me eating it, as I was clearly under-fuelled.  More water for the bottles, more water in me, and more water that could be on me later if necessary.  Believe it or not, as I left Princetown this time, I was actually a little chilly for a bit as the breeze which had appeared cooled down a very damp me.  It didn’t last long though as there was more up to do, and the sun came back out again!  Still, the back of the ride was now broken.  35 miles to go, ish.  A few more little ups, some fantastic downs, the bl**dy big, how dare you do this to me with 85+ miles in my legs climb out of Moretonhampstead which I knew about but still didn’t exactly enjoy and…there, finally, time to fly for home.  Maybe with not as much vigour as the last time, but I did my best, for miles of following the valley and the river and hoping I hadn’t missed any signs as I had my head down!  Finally, with 5 miles to go, I ended up working with someone called Christopher,  which was lucky as there was now a minor headwind, I was fairly tired, and having someone to share the load with made a massive difference.  Even though he could have dropped me a couple of times he didn’t, he waited for me to catch up; I took my turn as and when, and we made our way past as many people as possible, which was particularly enjoyable when you saw they were on the shorter route.  Time for the one short steep wish you weren’t there lump that I remembered, and then back through the housing estates of Newton Abbot, and on to the racecourse.  He sprinted for the line, as you do, I took photos, as I do.

Chris was waiting for me as I crossed the Finish line; the rest of the ACG having not long taken their silver medals home.  His gold one meant that he’d been waiting around for well over two hours for me!  If it wasn’t for the fact that he was my ride home, he could have been home hours ago, figuratively and literally…but I’m glad he wasn’t, as a friendly face was definitely welcome.  Once I’d stopped feeling totally spaced, I went in and collected my time, t-shirt goodie bag, and bronze medal, and we went and sat in the shade to drink fizzy pop and eat hog roast.  I wasn’t that hungry, but food seemed like a good idea.  I think I’d kinda overdone it, I’d run well into my red, and my brain wasn’t really functioning so I wasn’t exactly with it.  But I was happy enough.  Well, look at it this way, I figure I had two choices: either be depressed by how crap my performance was, or be pleased that I’d made it.  I figured the latter was better, easier, and nicer for all those around me!  And actually I was just really pleased to have survived.  I did good :).

Cycling time: 8:30
Distance: 107.4 miles
Avg: 12.6 mph
ODO: 5372.3 miles

It’s a very lovely event, and I’m very glad I did it again.  It’s one of my top five events, and possibly even the best UK one I do.  It’s really really really well run.  The marshals, outriders, organisers, are all friendly and efficient.  The foodstop is great, the route is amazing, and it’s a serious challenge whatever the weather!  And today the weather was a serious challenge!   However the scenery is beautiful, especially so with blue skies, and I’d rather have it this way than in the rain for sure.  Besides which, how else am I supposed to get a suntan? 😉  Dartmoor Classic 2014 done 🙂

PS: official review is here, and look what the paper dragged in!

I was one of the first downstairs on Day 2, having gotten myself organised the night before, as is my wont.  Summer kit and arm/leg warmers + gilet on me, all my other stuff in the bag to be transferred back, and a small bag with gadgets/bottles/food to go back on the bike and in pockets for the day ahead.  The sun was already shining as I retrieved my bike from storage, leaving my still labelled bag there,  and duly loaded up my steed.  Not only had the mechanics oiled my pedals as requested, it turns out that they wiped down ALL the bikes, and they’d even adjusted my brake cables to brutal level!  So far in fact that, as I waited around out the front of the hotel for the others to join me, our mechanic loosened them off a little for me, to get them a little more to my taste.  Coffee and pastries were available in the lobby, it being too early for normal breakfast service, so I got my early morning caffeine fix and ate a breakfast bar I happened to have with me, since no breakfast at all would probably be a bad idea, but then so would pastries!

The massage team and the mechanics were also already up and at it, helping riders iron out the knots, both physical and mechanical, to be ready for the day ahead.  It was pretty warm outside and the forecast was for even better so I nipped back into storage and stuffed my leg warmers into my bag.  Well, can’t have the extra weight making me slower, right? 😉  The event set up around me, with the obligatory photographer capturing every moment.  Stand up straight, shoulders back, stomachs in, right? 😉  Once more I bottled it, and opted out of joining the faster group, as I was too scared to, and besides, our group was a nice friendly one, and I didn’t fancy starting all over with new people.

Gradually everyone else emerged or arrived, although we were a few short as some of our group had decided that Day 1 had taken it out of them and Day 2 would be a step too far, which seemed a shame.  Today’s rider briefing was considerably shorter, and so it was a smaller but fairly cheerful group that set off once again sometime after seven.  There was only a small toot on the airhorn this time, but I bet we still weren’t popular with the more normal residents of the hotel! 😉

Having descended down two hills to get into Guildford, we were all well aware that leaving town would inevitably involve some up.  And before long there was a properly big one, which was one hell of a way to warm up and to realise that the legs were no better than the day before when it came to such things.  Today’s route was due to be a little shorter and about 1/3 less hilly, which was good to know, all things considered.  The views from the top were amazing; you could see all the way to London, which my camera completely failed to capture properly so you’ll have to take my word for it.  If I’d found the hill hard, some were finding it even harder, and we slowly regrouped at the top, enjoying the views and the sunshine, and being overtaken by other unrelated cyclists all wondering what we were up to.  It would appear the sun had brought every cyclist in Surrey out!

It wasn’t the only such hill, though as I slogged up the next one, I took comfort in the fact that the middle section of the ride was due to be fairly flat by comparison, with the exception of today’s hill climb challenge.  Yes, just like every other cyclist in Surrey, we were due to do a loop to take in Box Hill before heading back to Gravesend; something to think about as we once more waited to regroup.  I like Box Hill.  Mostly I like knowing that I’ve done it before so I can do it again.  It’s also nowhere near as steep as most of the other hills we had conquered, it’s just longer and wiggly and prettier.  Oh, and iconic.  Not that I’m into Col ticking or anything 😉 At least we weren’t going to have to cycle up it 9 times, right? 😉

Once more we were set off at 30 second intervals from the bottom.  A little bit of me had wondered if I could maybe do it at a little more speed than usual, but as yesterday’s QOM passed me, any such thoughts evaporated away in the sunshine, and I stuck to taking photos, shooting the breeze with other riders, and enjoying my usual bimble to the top where the National Trust café is, and where our first food stop was.  There were NSPCC folk waiting to clap us to the top accompanied by several families who were presumably there to cheer Daddy/Mummy along, and more than happy to cheer everyone else too, which was nice 🙂

I think we were the first Group to the top but the following Group was overtaking us as we stocked up on water and food, hurtling in one by one all hot and sweaty and competitive.  Must remember what I’ve done with my competitive spirit…I know I left it around here somewhere…;)  Mind you, there’s a lot to be said for knowing your limits 🙂  I also know the routes around here so I enjoyed the downhills afterwards a lot, as ever, but was also ready for the nasty kick up that comes somewhere in the middle of those glorious downs – and I nearly made it to the top out of the saddle, but not quite!  At least I can say I tried 🙂

On the way out of the Box Hill loop our QOM and friend had to stop, and it turns out they’d had a puncture.  Not a problem, the support car stopped with them, swapped her wheel for a new one, and she was with us again before we really realised it had happened.  Very swish!  As the route got flatter, and after yet another stop to regroup along the way, it was clear that we were once again falling into two groups, and some of the slow group were far from happy with having to try and keep up.  So for the next stretch of the ride we were actually allowed to split up, and 5 of us had a very happy fair few miles of flying flat section in the sun all the way to lunch, which was very lovely, very enjoyable, and possibly the longest stretch we went all weekend without stopping.  I was even allowed to lead from time to time, which was kinda cool, though Ian did keep having to rein me in as the speed would creep up without me noticing.  We made a good little group, and I think we all enjoyed it.

Lunch was once again full on, and this time I opted for the tuna pasta bake, rather than the cottage pie.  I may even have eaten some the cake 😉  There wasn’t anywhere to sit so we all sprawled around in the sunshine on the tarmac, not an excess layer in sight by now.  Too much sun for some, who preferred to enjoy the shade inside, which doesn’t happen very often!  One of our number had a dodgy knee; mine was doing fine thanks to being all kinetic taped up, in blue to match the bike of course.  It turns out that due to a multi-rider pile up somewhere back in Dorking, the relevant medical assistance was quite some way away and would have to be waited for.  Then, while that knee was eventually being treated, there was a bit of a palaver as some of the slower riders, who were considering taking a ride in the team car for a bit couldn’t as there was space for two riders but only one bike on the roof, the other one being used by a spare just in case Wilier.  So they didn’t.  But the broom wagon was a long way away too and no-one wanted to wait around for that.  Rather than making a decision, hard though it would have been, the support team were very keen to please all of the people all of the time and to not upset anyone who wanted to finish, and after endless debate, it was decided to carry on all together, and try and keep together – the two groups we had ended up in before had apparently become too far apart, thus breaking radio communication, and the various rules of the road that we were having to follow.  By the time we set off again, an hour and a half had passed…

So we were back to one slower group, cycling at the overall speed of the lowest denominator.  And getting slower all the time as everyone got tireder.  It was getting more and more frustrating, as I don’t think we went more than 5 miles without stopping, making it really hard to get into any sort of rhythm.  It was hard on the slower riders, feeling forced to go harder than they wanted, in the heat, and hard on the faster, forced to go slower and stop all the time.  A lose-lose situation.

When we arrived at the next food stop, all of 15 miles later, one rider had well and truly had enough and bailed.  Being local he decided to make his own way back, his way, and left just like that.  One of the others decided that she’d hitch a ride in the support car until after the two big hills that were ahead of us and then join in again to ride in to the end, which left all of 6 of us.  It was really hot by now, and I resorted to pouring water all over my head, in time-honoured fashion.  It always works, and it did this time too.  It was decided that we should all take some time to recover, and for that knee to be treated again.  Like half an hour.  It only have been 15 miles since the last stop I would have loved to be underway much sooner, and I wasn’t the only one, but ride leaders are there to tell you what to do, and he did, so we waited.

Right, time for the last 15 miles, and those last two long long long steep hills, which came pretty much straight away.  Hard work!  Still, I didn’t walk, I plodded, the knee didn’t hurt, and I wasn’t the slowest.  Those done, and behind us with a sigh of relief, we regrouped for the final stretch, rejoined by the hitchhiking rider, and we wiggled back amongst the familiar Oast houses and the quiet country lanes back towards Gravesend.  We emerged from the countryside to find ourselves practically there, and rounded off the ride with a victory lap of the track, which we nearly raced, but decided to be restrained, aka finish in one piece!  Discretion, valour, etc.  The 5 of us who’d spent most of the ride together lined up, and we crossed the Finish line together, to be cheered in by a welcoming committee, complete with fizz (how very TdF), medals, and generous goodie bags.  Nice 🙂 Day 2 – done!

We were far too late to join in the optional racing, even had we wanted to, but we were in time to witness the presentations of more K/QOM prizes and also prizes for the race winners.  Having been first out, we were last in by a long way, so there weren’t that many riders or crew left around, and with us all safely in, the event started slowly dismantling.  I had a chat with a few folk, thanked everyone for having me, collected my bag, stashed the bike and so forth in the car, and went and used the Cyclopark changing facilities to have a very welcome shower.  Well, I didn’t want to spend hours driving in the car in that state – not a pleasant concept!  So clean, with a frock on, the Tour of the South East was done, and it was time to hit the motorways and head for home.

So…in conclusion?  It’s a really good event.  Managing Group 1 was the problem, and it was made worse by logistics issues – maybe not enough medics, or bike/rider transfer capacity.  By the time we got in on the Sunday, we’d been out for 9:21, of which only 6:16 was spent riding the 84 miles and 4200 feet that we tackled.  I just wish I’d had the nerve to join the faster group… 🙁  OK, I’d have suffered on the hills, but I reckon I could have managed the rest…but then hey, 20/20 hindsight and all that.  On the other hand I had a fairly enjoyable two days riding my bike in the (mostly) sunshine, totally supported, with everything catered for and to.  I just didn’t quite get the semi-pro peloton experience that I’d been looking forward to, which is partially my fault, and partially theirs.  But then it’s a charity ride and a club rider challenge – and it must be hard to figure out how to be both!  Still, if they’ll have me next year, I would SO do it better.  On the other hand I wonder if they could use a ride leader for Group 1? 😉

Apparently I’ve taken up multi-day cycling.  First the three day Tour of Wessex, now the two day Tour of England NSPCC Tour of the South East.  Who knew?  But this isn’t just your average two sportives in a row.  “The NSPCC Tour of the South East is a tough, truly distinctive, 175-mile multi-stage sportive that offers YOU the ultimate pro-rider experience.  Snaking through the region’s most beautiful countryside, and including timed climbs of Box Hill and Kidds Hill (The Wall!) plus optional circuit racing at Cyclopark, you’ll ride in seeded groups, escorted by motorcycle outriders and serviced by domestiques, with back up from an experienced crew of mechanics and soigneurs.”  On top of that there is an option to pay to attend the “spectacular Yellow Jersey Dinner on the Saturday night with a delicious menu plus auction, presentations and a special guest speaker“.  I think that sums it up better than me, and saves me re-writing it!

I was invited to ride and review it for Cyclosport, so was lucky enough to have a place for both days, at the Yellow Jersey Dinner, and in a room at the Radisson Blu hotel in Guildford for the mid-ride night.  Well, it would be rude not to accept, right?  And unlike the Tour of Wessex, which I was kind of dreading, this Tour was one I was really looking forward to.  Something different, somewhere different.  Even if it did mean a 3.5 hour drive to Gravesend in Kent the night before, and a night in a Premier Inn where the door to the rooms upstairs slammed shut every time someone used it, which was frequently, and which woke me up every time.  *grrr*.

Still it did make for a relatively leisurely start in the morning, with a 5:30am alarm call, and 6:15am departure to reach HQ at Cyclopark, all of five minutes drive away.  I was a bit later than I’d planned since having had one overnight stay already, with kit to sort/wear for the day, a bag packed with clothes for the dinner/kit for the next day, and a bag full of food/gadgets/etc to put on the bike, I managed to totally misplace various essential things several times and had to find them each time, having put them somewhere sensible in a one bag or another but never the one I was looking in!

Since we were all in seeded groups, me being in Group 1, the 12-13mph group, we all also had staggered start times, so there weren’t that many people queuing for registration.  Which is just as well as it wasn’t very organised.  Rather than having one rider pack per rider, each one had to be given their timing tag, number, cable ties, sign a waiver, etc etc…all separately.  It took quite some time…but other than the odd eye-rolling when the eyes of slightly frustrated queuing riders met, all of whom would rather be getting their bikes ready, we all did the British thing and queued in an orderly fashion. I was number 10.  Well I was, except somewhere along my faffing way back at the car, I lost my helmet timing tag, so for timing purposes I ended up as number 19 instead.

Sometime after 7:00am Group 1 were gathered together for a pretty comprehensive briefing which, if you’d read the 30 page manual that came out beforehand, probably was a bit surplus to requirements, a bit like having a presentation where the speaker reads out the powerpoint slides.  I’m sure they had to do it for risk assessment/health and safety reasons anyway.  It did give us a change to meet our ride leader Ian, and our domestic Dave though.  There was one other but he was poached by another larger Group, there being only 13 or so in ours.  As we stood there, the weather was ooming, and the forecast, though improved on earlier in the week, was pretty convinced that rain was likely.  It started spitting a bit as we got to the start line, but I really didn’t want to put my waterproof on as it was pretty warm.  Still, I did the wise thing, and did.  Well, not putting it on has only gotten me into trouble of late as I recall!

With a countdown, and air horn fanfare, we were sent off to do a quick lap of the track before heading out into the Kent countryside, following the arrows and our ride leader.  Riding as a kept together group was weird, and took me a long time to get used to.  Initially I was somewhere near the back, but having to brake for everyone else, especially downhill, was doing my head in a bit as I hate to lose hard-earned momentum, so I ended up much nearer the front where I could at least see ahead of myself and not have to worry about others more (probably sensibly) cautious than myself.  It wasn’t flat either, there were a couple of decent climbs in the first 17 miles to make me realise my legs were still rubbish, and then an easier stretch to follow to get us to the first food stop.  The route was quiet, and pretty, along lots of leafy Kent lanes past what seemed like infinite numbers of Oast houses, but as it was still damp out there, taking photos seemed unwise.  There were various stops along the way, to co-ordinate layer stashing, and to wait for others catch up so we could re-group and carry on.  Some of this was facilitated by traffic lights which, like good, well-marshalled and supported little soldiers, we all stopped at.

My gears were a little out, so I took advantage (not literally!) of the mechanic at the food stop, around 25 miles in, to get them adjusted, which he did in no time flat, and perfectly.  Gotta love this supported riding stuff 😉  The food stop was, as they all were, fairly basic but adequate – with bars, gels, water/energy drink.  This one kind of summed up the route – the posh Surrey world interrupted by lycra louts!  I wonder what they thought of us?  But since we were escorted by a support rider out front, then the ride leader, then us, then the domestique, then a bike and support car, very few motorists seemed up for expressing their opinion on the subject, preferring to do as they were told and giving us a wide berth 😉

Kent is not flat.  It’s quite lumpy, deceptively so.  Lots of climbing without lots of hills, which may make no sense, but some of you will know what I mean.  Climb up through country leafy lanes, arrive at top in leafy trees, go down and repeat.  Rolling, but with some big rolls!  There were however exceptions to the rule, and today’s main exception was Kidds Hill, about 36 miles in.  Having arrived at the bottom en masse we were all then sent off at 30 second intervals to play at chasing KOM or indeed QOM.  As if – do be serious!  And yes, as billed, it was pretty hard work; pretty consistently steep, a bit more so at the bottom and then ramped up a bit again towards the top.  But it was not quite as bad as I’d feared it would be, and realising that, I just sat back and crawled up in my usual way.  A few riders overtook me, but not as many as I’d expected would, and at least one tried and failed, which was amusing.  Half way up the NSPCC team were out, cheering and clapping and rattling things, which was a nice touch.

It took quite a while to get us all up to the somewhat damp top, but the weather was improving and the big hill of the day was behind us, so everyone was pretty cheerful as they waited, once they’d recovered of course!  After a while riding across the top more moor-like area, with views to enjoy and so on, I was allowed to enjoy the descent my way – very fast very fun!  Luckily, as long as I waited up afterwards, Ian, our ride leader, was ok with that.  Which is good.  Though I did get a bit of a reputation for being a demon descender/speed freak.  Who me? 😉

Right, time for lunch.  Which really was lunch.  As in a meal!  I opted for beef lasagne rather than chicken curry, on the basis that it was probably the safer of the two options as I hadn’t told them about my gluten/lactose requirements, and besides which, nothing sits well on rides.  And curry? *shudder*.  The lasagne was very nice, as it happens, and I surprised myself by eating it all.  Maybe I was hungry?

I passed on the cake that came too though – I thought that might be a step too far.  As we sat around, taking it easy, various juggling was going on to get everyone fed, including crew, as faster groups came and went.  Unsurprisingly we were caught and overtaken by faster groups both en route and at stops – there were 4 Groups seeded by speed – and as we were leaving yet another group arrived.  Some of them even smiled for the camera 🙂  At one point I was thinking about maybe joining a faster group and trying it, but with rumours flying around as they do, it would appear that the next group up, Group 2, were caning it, going far faster than the 14/15mph avs billed, and I decided I’d leave it and maybe consider it for tomorrow.

 
There was a bit of debate as to which way we needed to exit, as we couldn’t see the usual arrow from where we were.  There was a sign though 😉  We were grouped up, led out, and escorted on our way again.  At which point I spent about an hour being very aware that lasagne was sitting heavy…I’m not used to riding after meals!  And since I usually sound like a steam engine going uphills, it amused me when one actually passed us going the other way…;)

Although I was dropping like a stone on every hill, I wasn’t the slowest up them by far, and when it came to the flat/down, as I may have mentioned, I was possibly the fastest.  We sort of fell into a 50/50 split.  Half of us would have like to be doing a faster speed when possible, half of us couldn’t, but we had to stay as a group, or at least not too spread out a group, to maintain the radio mike communication between all the crew, and also to stick to their rules and regs, which was a bit frustrating.  I made the most of the patches when I could do my thing, and waited as instructed, which was better than nothing.

The sun was out by now, and as we waited once more, this time outside The Star Inn, the thought of a cold pint of lager later was motivational; I’m very reward driven 😉  There were more country lanes, more bimbling, getting more and more strung out as people got more tired.  Uphill my legs were killing me, as all last week’s training was still in them, but it was all very pleasant really.  Just like a weekend ride with mates, since our group had turned out to be a pretty sociable bunch.  And as long as I focused on that and stopped wishing I was playing pretend-pro, the miles just kept on passing by.  At least all the stops meant I was eating and drinking regularly, right? 😉

Here we all are, at the third and final food stop, ready for the final last 15 miles into Guildford.  And there’s Ian, our ride leader, looking pretty pro, which he may well be, unlike the rest of us.  Having lots of riders in their free Tour jerseys was nice though, it made for a certain conformity, and looked good out there on the road 🙂

There were a couple of nasty stinger hills before we reached our final destination, which came as an unpleasant surprise.  At one point yet another well-organised peloton caught up again,  and we were instructed to wait to let them by.  I’m sure their “well done guys” comments as they flew by were well meant, but I’m afraid they did come across a tad patronising!  Luckily we chose just to find it very funny *grin*.  I did feel a slight pang though…should that have been me?

I was a bit concerned about negotiating Guildford, as I recall it being busy and having traffic, but as it turns out we didn’t have any problems.  Once those climbs had sapped the legs it was a relief to discover we were the right side of town, with no distance at all to do, and we just rolled down into town and straight into the hotel area, just like that!   Day 1 was done, and around 90 miles and 6,300 feet of climbing were behind us.

The hotel turned out to be lovely, though it being 4* and swish, they seemed a tad (politely) bemused by all of us wandering around in grubby lycra.  Everything was organised.  Our bikes went into secure storage, our overnight bags were ready and waiting for us, and masseurs and mechanics were on hand for those that wanted/needed them.  What I wanted was to check in, get to my room, have a shower, put normal clothes on and then buy myself that cold lager I’d been dreaming of.  So I did.  Though since a 330ml bottle of Perroni (“we don’t have draft lager”) was £4.85, it was possibly the most expensive pint ever – ok, 660 ml – but you get the gist!

I was joined by some other riders and we killed time talking cycling as the time to dinner ticked down.  It took us a while to recognise each other in civvies!  There were some from my Group, and also a posse from Woking CC including Klem, who I’d already “met” pre-ride, but only on Twitter.  He insisted on tweeting a photo of the pair of us which probably isn’t massively flattering, but the fact that he wanted to kinda was 😉

The dinner started with free fizz and mingling, followed by a sit-down three course meal complete with compère and inspirational speech by Paralympian Mark Colbourne.  Again, not my usual fodder, but I figured I needed the fuel.  Tomato soup, bangers & mash, apple crumble & custard – stuff to stick to the ribs.  The white wine was no cheaper than the beer (ouch!), but it was at least properly cold and really quite nice.  There was also a raffle and various awards, including those for the KOM and QOM up Kidds Hill in each Group, which was a nice touch – since interGroup competition would never have worked!

Things wrapped up at a reasonable hour so I hid out at the bar for a little longer, since early nights don’t mean early sleeping for me.  It was nice just to enjoy some peace and quiet for a while.  Oh, and a little more white wine of course – for sedative purposes 😉