Tag Archives: sportive

Dartmoor Classic 2015

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And PS: where has rider etiquette gone?!

Velothon Wales 2015 – Part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

climbers behind me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Black Rat Cyclosportive 2015

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wiggle Wye Valley Warrior 2015

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

White Horse Challenge 2015

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exmoor Beauty 2015

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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 😉

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*.