What was I saying about misery and company?  Oh so true…

Dad and I arrived in Whitchurch bright and early this morning.  (And that’s likely to be the only time I use the word “bright” in this write-up).  Being so early, after killing a little time, we were pretty much first in the queue to sign on, and very nearly first to leave as well – which is the way I like it.  As I always say – sooner started sooner finished – so we set off into the chilly drizzle a bit before 8:30am.

The first one and half hours were awful.  It was cold.  We were doing a sort of flat loop – out in a NE direction and then back.  And the wind was blowing hard and cold from the NE.  The roads were terrible, covered in grit, full of potholes, wet and for anyone less cautious then me, potentially lethal.  And it was hillier than billed too.  My kind of hill – the long slow slog sort – but still…  It was impossible to get a rhythm going, or to warm up properly.   Dad had had the foresight to pack a waterproof – (mainly cos he wanted to show how how natty it is and how small it folds up *grin*) – so was able to put on an extra layer in an attempt to generate more heat to send to his absent fingers.  I had not.  Well I had, but I’d left mine in the car, what with rain not being forecast and all that.  By the first food stop my legs were soaked, my feet were on permanent vacation, and motivation was hard to find in the face of our demoralizing average speed.    It was threatening to be a very long day…  Even the stunning scenery and fabulous bluebells were hard put to cheer us up.

We soldiered on and at the top of the loop, by an industrial monument to the gods of telecommunication, we finally put the wind behind us.  Most definitely an improvement.  The roads improved, and so did our speed, a bit.  The temperature may have increased by a degree or so so we dried out a bit.   Due to the communal misery, we stuck together until the end of Dad’s medium route, leaving Dad back at the start, with us having dragged our average speed up to 13.7mph.  I headed off to do the remaining long route loop by myself.

That last loop had plenty of hills  as it was and had been rerouted to include two “feature” hills.  Streatley Hill was the first, and I quote from Wikipedia “Streatley Hill is a destination for cycling hill climbs – the annual Reading Cycle Hill Climb takes place every September. The hill featured in the Tour of Britain in 2008 as a designated King of the Mountains climb.”  It is apparently a category 2 hill – and it was a BIG hill – low gear grind up and up and up….  I made it though.  I didn’t get out of the saddle and I even overtook someone.  OK, so he was much larger than me and therefore carrying more up the hill, but I don’t care – I went past someone :P, Then there was some lovely long flat smooth country lane stuff, more hills, more downs…and then a turn back into the wind to slog the last section home.

The second monster was right at the end, the long long climb up Whitchurch Hill from Pangbourne back to HQ, which was nearly as bad, especially after 6 hours on the bike…talk about a sting in the tail!  But again, dogged determination and some dodgy music choice on the mp3 got me up there (Glee – Like a Prayer, since you asked), and that was that, ride done.

Cycling time: 6:13:21
Distance: 87.21 miles
Avs: 14.0 mph
ODO: 4218  miles

Compared to the last Ride It this one was – scenically – beautiful.  It was either beautiful woodland – and I have never seen so many bluebells – or rolling hills with vibrant yellow oilseed rape and views for miles.  There was wildlife galore – from red kites to pheasants, a lovely jay, and even a peacock.  Given decent weather and clear roads, this would be a cracker of  a ride.

Sadly however the temperature never got into double figures, the wind never dropped below them and even when some strange yellow disc in the sky started making appearances about 5 hours in, there was no reconnecting my feet.  Ah well, I clearly managed ok without them.

We felt a bit guilty because this was a ride ridden with punctures (pun intended!).  We met one guy on his fourth, as well as a couple who’d had enough between them to exhaust their gas cannister thingies who needed to borrow a pump.  It was their first sportive – bet they take a pump to the next one *grin*.  Pretty much everyone seemed to have suffered from at least one puncture – mostly more.  But not us…  Having said that, Dad’s tyre went “phut” some time later as he sat in the car waiting for me to return, which was a tad peculiar.  I got away scot free…*phew*!

If you really care about the route – it can be downloaded here.  My official time is going to be quite a bit slower what with stopping and starting, helping folk, and so on.  I did kind of enjoy it – especially the last loop (sorry Dad!) but it’s been slightly overshadowed by the news that my son had a self-inflicted trip to casualty this morning and now has to have surgery on a tendon in his left hand.  I only went away for one day! *grin*.  This would be why playing with knives is wrong…like he didn’t know that…*grrr*.

UPDATE: my official time is 6:39:25.  And the Evans Ride It team have tweeted to this blog entry – how cool is that?!