Tag Archives: Wales

Severn Bridge Sportive 2016

I have a thing about cycling over the Severn Bridge. As some of you probably know. I love it. Dunno why. Just do. So I have a tendency to do sportives that cross it just because they do. And when last year’s Severn Bridge Sportive turned out to not just cross it but to actually cross it using the main carriageway, I was made up. It was AWESOME. So doing the event again this year was pretty much a given. Sign me up now.

Well it was a given back then anyway, back when I did all my signing up to stuff. However just a few days beforehand, as part of the final pre-event meal, we were informed that due to Highways, Health & Safety, and various things, crossing the road on the main carriageway was no longer an option. We would instead be using the cycle path. Considering I wasn’t having a great week, being mid mad pain patch, this was almost enough to make me not do it. But I didn’t. For starters I’d still be crossing the bridge, and a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. But more importantly I wasn’t the only one signed up to do it. Letting myself down is one thing, letting others down is most definitely an other.

Yep, Matt had decided that he was up for trying another sportive. His second. The next step up from last time’s 47 miles – to more like 62. The plan was that we would do the first leg together. Then if I was up for it I’d do the extra loop. And then we’d head back in together. Or variations on that theme anyway. So however the bridge was to be crossed, I was going to be doing it whatever.

Which brings us to another Sunday morning with, due to HQ’s proximity, a slightly later start than usual. HQ was at the Castle Combe Race Circuit, which was about an hour’s drive away in my little car, crammed to the gills with two bikes and two loads worth of kit and stuff. Less Hyundai, more Tardis 😉 I was feeling fairly rubbish, even when equally loaded to my gills with analgesia. Anyway…the sat nav, and official venue signs, got us there and into the car park easily enough. We were marshalled down the road past lots of earlier arrivals to park up on the grass in the paddock, rather further away than I usually am here. It was grey, but dry, and neither warm nor cold, and the forecast was for both better and worse, depending which one you’d read. And what’s in a forecast anyway?

Thanks to prior experience I knew the best way to deal with this sportive is to do it the pre-ride stuff in one go, with no to-ing and fro-ing. Ie: faff, get ready, sort bikes, and ride/walk to the start. Quicker and easier and less hard on the cleats. So faff we did. Easier for me than Matt though. Experience and lack of options in my case – so I ended up in the same as the recent usual. Summer kit, s/s base layer, arm warmers & gilet. However this sportive lark is still all kinda new to Matt. And not only is it new, he was also doing it on a bike new to him, with actual honest to god gears, having been persuaded of the error of his single speed ways. Well, not really, he’d just decided that that many miles might be easier done with gears first time around. So he faffed some, deciding on layers and food and stuff, and so did I. Well, to be fair, I wasn’t faffing, I was more sort of loitering because there wasn’t any rush. It was kinda weird to realise how blasé I’ve gotten about some things. Like riding 60 miles. I wasn’t even really thinking about it. Matt however was a bit nervous. Aw bless 😉

Finally we were both ready, and it couldn’t be put off any longer. A few paces across the rather long damp grass to the drier path. This soon turned into the road in which took us conveniently past a toilet block and, once a brief detour had thus been made, we were on the little wiggly path around the circuit which opened out as we reached the main venue. It felt a bit empty as there weren’t heaps of riders around, and I don’t think that was because they’d all left before us, as we weren’t running particularly late. However with the change of route, the less than fabulous weather, and the Sodbury Sportive taking place the weekend before on very similar turf, I’m guessing there weren’t as many people around as in previous years. There were certainly no queues for registration…which was good if you were Matt, and less good if you were me because they’d lost my registration, and I had to play the sign up on the day game instead. Given that that gave me number 214…I’m thinking that must be roughly how many riders ended up taking part…but I could be wrong!

Did I mention I wasn’t feeling great? Well I wasn’t. So I put myself down for the 60 mile route, which still left me the option to do the long route, but seemed more honest, and likely, and that way I probably wouldn’t have to tell the timing team, post ride, that I’d bailed. I was given my helmet timing chip, bike number and cable ties, and helped myself to a route map on the way back outside. Not being able to trim my cable ties did leave long plastic ends sort of waving around which annoyed my sense of order somewhat…but hey, not exactly a big deal. After a quick trip, on the bike, across to the toilet block a little way away, I was back, and we were ready to join the queue for the start. A short queue, which is always good when you’re nervous, and fidgety, and just keen to get going. There was no sign of Rob, who I knew was also doing it with friends of his, but he could have been ahead or behind us, or have bailed completely, so there didn’t seem any point waiting around in case he turned up. Instead we waited for our turn to be briefed by organiser Andy Cook. Well it’s run by Andy Cook Cycling so… 😉 Shortly we were on our way, and after last year it was a relief to be let go on to a dry race track to enjoy a section of the track before hitting the route proper.

However this just served to show that my indexing, all sorted and checked yesterday pre-ride, was well off when actually under way and under load. B*gger. I hoped it would settle down but…shortly after we’d left the track and joined the lanes leading away from HQ, I had to stop. Matt tried to fix it, since I’m technically inept, and he’s not, but it didn’t really help. Ah well, nowt to be done about it really, and we couldn’t hang around all day, so we set off again, ready to make the best of a bad deal. Time to ride the bikes, and head for that Bridge which, on this leg of the route, was about 24 miles away.

Quite a few bits of today’s route turned out to be from last week’s route but done in reverse. And it was a fairly direct route that took us to the Bridge. Quiet country lanes, over the M4, bypassing Yate, over the M5, through Tockington, to put it in sight. Uneventful, a bit grey, country piles, railway bridges, cute cottages. Although it was sort of essentially downhill overall, that didn’t stop there being ups, and those ups, though doable, were proving that my life was still proper painful. Marvellous. I don’t remember a lot of the route out, partly because it’s been a while since I did it, partly because it was pretty uneventful, partly because I was a bit distracted by the ouch, and partly because Matt and I were talking most of the time. I was just looking forward to getting to that bridge really, and it definitely perked me up when I spied it in the distance. Even the weather perked up, with patches of blue sky appearing. Nice 🙂

Getting on to the bridge was fairly easy. A bit of more major road, a bit of slightly circuitous cycle path, and then with no further ado we were on to the cycle path on the North side of the bridge. It’s a path you always have to be a bit careful on. There are quite a few ramps, bits of road furniture, lumps, and so forth. It quickly became clear that the same path was being used for our return route so not only were we occasionally overtaking riders going our way, we were also dodging those on their return. Still, it meant some of my “cyclists on bridge” photos had faces in them instead of behinds for a change! To our left, the South side cycle path was full of runners – since we were sharing the day and the bridge with a half marathon. The main carriageway between us was eerily quiet, with only a few highways vehicles doing whatever maintenance they’d decided they’d like to do today, with it closed, rather than letting us on it. However crossing the bridge was still lovely. I still enjoyed it. The views are great, and I waved in the general direction of my folks’ place in Portishead, and generally took my time to look around and make the most of it.

Getting off the bridge in Wales was rather more tricky than getting on it had been though…as we joined the runners, who had crossed under the road, so that we were all using the same path. The riders were on the left, the runners on the right, both nominally, with spectators on both sides. All a bit chaotic and occasionally a bit scary. When we reached the main roundabout at the end they bore right while we were marshalled through a gap in the spectators to go left onto the road, to go around and then take the exit opposite. This took us down to the first food stop, which was tagged on to the end of the runners’ event village. It was definitely time for a break. Matt had been doing really well, especially considering it was only his second sportive, on that unfamiliar bike, but refuelling was called for. So we parked the bikes on the grass, grabbed food from the range on offer, and then parked ourselves up next to them to sit on the grass in the sunshine and take 5. Or 10. Or quite probably longer.

There just didn’t seem any rush to get anywhere. I was still tempted by the Welsh hills. It would have been a lovely day to have done them – what with the sun and lack of wind. But being realistic, there was no way that was going to happen. Not today. Especially not on my own, which is how I’d have been for that loop. Given company I might have risked it…but it’s probably just as well that that wasn’t the case, as I’d more than likely have regretted it. Sometimes I beat the pain, sometimes it beats me, and today I was beaten. So we sat in the sun until it seemed like a good time to leave. First things first though – a trip to the toilets, which were a little way up the path, so rather than further trash my cleats (I must remember to get new ones) we rode there instead. And once that was done we had another go at fixing my indexing, just for fun, before setting off again. Just as we were leaving, we came across Rob who had presumably not long arrived, with his mates. After a brief chat we left them, off to do the Welsh Hills for me, and headed for the bridge again.

As expected, we retraced our steps, through the runners, and back on to the bridge. The weather was starting to look less nice, but the views were none the less impressive. There were still cyclists coming the other way, so even with all our hanging around, at least it looked like we wouldn’t be the last back to base. And the route back, though longer than the route out, was also nicer. Prettier, more pastoral, more pleasant somehow. There was also a bit more up on it, most of which came near the end when we had to go up Hawkesbury Hill. Oh, and my indexing seemed to be working now, which was a bonus.

Before that though, with Matt getting a little slower and dropping back from time to time, and with me starting to feel a little woozy and worse for wear, it was time for a fizzy orange stop. Matt spotted a little convenience store lurking in a housing estate on the edge of somewhere, and we took a break for me to drink such, as well as adding some to my bottle for continuing restorative purposes. And we stopped a little further on, to stash layers, next to a lamppost that was painted sparkly silver, which was bizarre! Somewhere after that the sparkle wore off in more ways than one as the rain came in, and came down proper and somewhere on a moor like bit we had to take a break under a tree to let it get the proper flinging it down bit over, which also conveniently let me get it together again. Yes…there was a lot of stopping going on today… There weren’t a lot of riders around to notice though, and although the signage was good, we did on at least one point wonder if we were still not the right route. However just at that point a motorcycle medic rode past, and checked we were ok with a quizzical thumps up, so that sorted that. Still, a few repeater signs wouldn’t have gone amiss… Oh, and that rain? Made me feel better about not doing those Welsh hills 😉

Right, shall we do Hawkesbury Hill then? 48 miles in, the biggest, and the last challenge of the day. I’ve done it before, knew I could do it, and actually quite like it in an odd way. It was of course new to Matt… So we split up for a bit, rather than trying to stick together as we had been. Hills are best done your own way, which in my case went fairly well. It’s longer than you think because it’s deceptive, goes up in steps, and goes around corners. It’s pretty, even when damp. And unfairly the worst section is the last. But I plodded along in my own way, and made it to the top in one piece. And although I’d left Matt behind, I didn’t have to wait that long for him to join me, though I did have enough time to take photos of the Somerset monument at the top 😉

This left us with just another 10 miles to do to get back. Which, after a bit of down hill, turned out to be pretty flat. Easy peasy. Well, ish. Probably a bit harder for Matt than me…he was definitely looking a bit tired around the edges now. The last 10 miles of a sportive are often where I speed up and head for home, but since this was about to be his longest ride, I might have left him behind, which would have been rude. Especially considering that today would have been a whole heap harder without his company and support. I did get to have a bit of a blast when we got back to the race circuit to complete the lap we’d started hours before and get to the Finish line though 🙂

Cycling time: 3:55
Official time: 4:55
Distance: 58.1 miles
Avs: 14.8 mph

So there you go. Severn Bridge Sportive done. Matt did awesome – again! As did I, all things considered 😉 There weren’t that many people around as we rolled under the Finish arch, and the wretched weather had probably put somewhat of a dampener on the Family Cycling Day element of the event. However there were still some hardy families out enjoying the circuit together, and also checking out the various bits and pieces on display. We were given our free pasta tokens, and goody bags (which contained a High5 bottle, various leaflets, High5 Protein Recovery, EnergyGel, and Energy Bar), and we walked through to park up and settle down. Even I had pasta – and it really was quite tasty, even if I didn’t eat it all. It was getting a bit chilly hanging around though so, after a chat in passing with Andy Cook himself, we headed back to the car to head home and celebrate our respective achievement and survival properly 🙂 Hopefully next year the event will be able to cross the bridge on the main road as planned…and in that case, I’ll be back to do it again 🙂

Black Rat 2016

Another weekend. Another sportive. And, amazingly, another one in company! Which makes it Sunday, the Black Rat, and Guy & Gary.

I’d not had a great week. Various sh*t had hit various fans. I’m on a new drug, along with the others, making for a different cocktail. And my usual weekend pre-sportive prep routine went to hell in a hand basket. But I was pretty cheerful when Guy picked me up around 7:00am on what was a fairly sunny morning. I was less au fait with the weather forecast than usual. Thanks to some serious incompetence on BT’s behalf I was devoid of broadband, and had been for days. (it’s back now – clearly – took 6 days though!). What I had gathered led me to believe it was going to be fairly mild, somewhat cloudy, with a chance of meatballs later. Well, a chance of rain anyway 😉 After last week’s failure to be warm, I really didn’t want to make the same mistake again – and though my kit choice may have been similar, it most definitely included leg warmers this time! Leg warmers, toe covers, shorts, s/s base layer, heavyish s/s jersey, Cyclosport arm warmers & gilet, neck collar, head tube, and waterproof for the saddle bag. I had a few other options with me too, so as to have something to debate, fret about, and faff with later though 😉

It only took half an hour to get to HQ at Clifton Rugby Club which, obviously, is NOT in Clifton…because that would be far too simple. It’s actually at Cribbs Causeway. With a nifty little detour to get around the one way street that stops getting there being too simple too. Being early we were, of course, marshalled to park nearly as far away from the club building as possible, and also on the grass. Which I remember from last year’s event – when my feet were wet before I even set off. But today the sun was still shining, and it’s not exactly a long walk, so, with Gaz having arrived ahead of us, off we all walked to register.

Which wasn’t massively well organised. The signs for which queue you should be in were a bit high up if you weren’t paying attention…and when you did figure out where you should be, there weren’t enough members of staff to deal with everyone, so the short queues were growing. Not that it took long to be dealt with when you did get there though. So…find the queue for the Granfondo – that being what I was signed up for. Quote my number, 113 as it happens, be given a laminated number including timing chip for the handlebars and two cable ties, a bit of spiel as to where tea/coffee were, and job done. Time to nip to the toilet, where there were once again queues, even for the Ladies, which however in this case was a good sign – it’s always nice to see more women at an event.

On the way back to the car, carrying my free cup of coffee, we bumped into organiser Jeremy, who recognised me, and we had a brief chat, which was nice. OK, so maybe the Cyclosport kit gave me away…;) Enough with the chatting though, time to put bikes together and debate layerage. I was already kitted out, and nothing out there was making me decide to change. It was sunny, but a little fresh, and, as previously stated, there was no way my leg warmers were coming off, even if I had to throw them away half way around if I couldn’t find anyway to stow them away! Visual checks around the car park for comparative reassurance came up short, as many were in shorts. Guy eventually decided to stick to the just shorts option and, all ready, we all headed back to HQ to mill around in the sunshine, queue for the toilets again, and take the usual photos. It felt pretty warm just standing there, but it was too late for changing now!

Today’s plan was to do the Granfondo, which entitled us to be in the first group away at 8:20am or so. There was no grand announcement, and no-one seemed to know quite what to do, so we just sort of queued, and shuffled, until the point where there was some sort of concerted movement in the right direction. Then there was Jeremy, mic in hand, officially asking us all to move forward. So we did, which brought us right up near the front, where we listened to the usual rider briefing before being sent on our way.

This initially sent us up the main road for a little bit, which felt quite busy and industrial estatey. And then we turned left and suddenly it was all countryside. Narrow country lanes, the odd bit of rolling, but pretty flat and rather nice really. And it could have remained that way all the way to the Severn Bridge, but there was a gratuitous loop to do to get there instead. This involved a short steepish up in Tockington, before going out to Alveston and back. Well the up certainly warmed me up a bit! I guess they were making sure the long route was properly 100 miles? It was less bright now, clouding over a bit, but still not cold, and we were flying along most of the time. My legs were feeling good, and we were chatting, and I had to remind me, and us, to rein it in a bit. Hurtling off at the beginning of a sportive is never a good idea!

We were also being nice, and polite. Saying hello to those we passed, be they on two wheels or on two legs, or even four. Some of the groups that passed us however… Hello? Morning? Manners don’t cost anything you know! I have to admit to the odd sarcastic remarks having passed our lips, in the directions of the posh pelotons passing us, determined to get ahead at all costs…even should that be at the cost of those they were passing! Enough p’s for you? Cos I can think of at least one more…

Time for my favourite bit. Crossing the Severn Bridge. There were some interesting bits of cycle path to be negotiated at either end, and crossing the bridge itself involves quite few ramps, metal covers, and so forth – none of which are conducive to speed – so we were slowed down somewhat despite ourselves. And we got separated by other riders too. So, on my own briefly, I bimbled a bit, and took photos, looked out across the Severn to the other bridge, and generally enjoyed it as much as I always do 🙂 Well, apart from the fact that the weather over Wales was looking a tad ominous – I wasn’t enjoying the thought of what that might mean…

Hello Wales! Wales isn’t flat. But I’ve ridden around this area a lot, not just on this event, and I know I like the climbs here. The first of which comes from the bridge up to Chepstow, through what is essentially housing estate. Lots of speed bumps, parked cars, road furniture…so no going fast, even if you could! After negotiating the centre of Chepstow, complete with traffic lights to obey, and city gates to admire while you did so, we were out the other side, on an generally upwards trend, climbing up tree covered roads. I realised I knew where I was. Which was good as, amongst all the gradual climbing, with occasional downs, there’s a little kick up to the Racecourse which, being totally prepared for for a change, I nailed 🙂 Overall I was climbing well, and also enjoying it. And after this long climb was finished, we got a long long flying downhill, down into the Wye Valley, which, again with the familiarity, I set off to enjoy. Given happy legs and this? Bliss… 🙂 I hurtled my way off, leaving the guys behind, to have a blast. All the way down to Tintern Abbey. It’s easy to fly past it, which is a shame if it happens, but as I knew it was there I stopped to both take photos and wait for my compatriots. It took a while for them to catch me, and when they did, also flying past, it took me a while, thanks to traffic and other descending riders, to get back on the road and catch up with them. Partially because I was trying to make sure to enjoy myself while I did so – it is just so pretty around there 🙂

I found the guys were waiting for me at the route split, and the long route option had us going straight on, not turning left, so as I approached Guy waved me on, and shortly we were three again, heading off into the Welsh blue yonder. Well. Not for long. It turns out Gary wasn’t feeling the love today, and he thought he’d head back and take that turning after all. B*gger. I don’t like it when groups fall apart 🙁 Guy and I decided that we were still up for the long route though – after all, that’s what I’d set out to do, and he eats miles for breakfast. So sadly there was a parting of the ways. And just two of us carried on along the Wye Valley.

As we carried on, the weather slowly deteriorated yet further, and spots of rain started falling. Just in time for the first really big climb of the day. Which made deciding what to do about waterproofs tricky. Stay dry or boil in the bag? I love this climb, up to St Briavels. Initially it’s long, and slow, and pretty, and I was really enjoying myself, even as the rain got heavier. At some point Guy stopped, probably wisely, to put his waterproof on, which inevitably made the rain go away for a bit, and left me ahead of him. Towards the end the climb gets much steeper but I even enjoyed that, and not just because lots of other people obviously weren’t enjoying it 😉 Having reached the top by pedalling, with hint of smug face, I took shelter under the large trees around the castle and church to wait for him, and take photos etc. As it turns out, I’d probably have been better off waiting for him at the food stop which turned out to be just down the road!

The town hall being used had toilets, which was great, as I needed one. There was High5 drink, and food, but that on offer, with the exception of some big pretzels, was all of the slightly limited sweet variety. I topped up my bottle, ate a pretzel, and tried to get the water off my camera and sunglass lenses… Not that I should have bothered, as not long after we set off again, the rain set off again too.

Which explains the lack of photos for quite a considerable while. It rained. It rained more. It rained a lot. It rained so much that you couldn’t get any wetter. It was almost amusing? Like, you’re throwing all this at me, but I’m not cold, I’m still pretty much flying along, I’m still loving the ups, I’m still (albeit more cautiously) enjoying the downs. It’s just water, right? I thumb my nose at thee, weather gods! It wasn’t really conducive to much chatting though; overall everyone was a bit glum. I did meet another rider, Paul Hunt, in luminous pink, at some point. He spotted my Cyclosport kit and asked if I was the Jennifer whose blogs he reads. Well, clearly I was/am, so we chatted for a little while as we rode through the rain, which was nice. Hi Paul! Even with the rain it was still oddly pretty out there. All green, the smell of wild garlic, forests of many trees… Guy and I played the elastic thing – getting separated and joining up again as the very wet miles continued. I was soaked through but feeling ok, but Guy was rueing his decision to leave his leg warmers at home, and was really cold, so we didn’t do much stopping – just kept pushing on to keep warm.

So there’s a patch in the middle of this ride that is one big wet blur…but at some point, after longer than anyone would have liked, and soaked to the skin and beyond, things started to improve a little. I’d been recognising where I was on and off, and I’m sure I missed a castle that I usually see on the way, but there was a particular village and church that I seem to photograph every time I come this way so it seemed only fair I do so again. And not long after that I realised that the wiggles and rolls had led us to a long climb that I also recognised. I think I usually call it Lydford Hill, which today Strava calls the Monmouth – Trellech Climb. Guy went on up, on his merry way, and I settled back to bimbling up in mine. Slowly, steadily, happily, enjoying the views, taking photos, and generally just getting on with it.

29 traditional shot 30 the big climb ahead

It went on and on and on, splitting left by an old pub, with various chatting to riders from time to time, and I kept going up…and with my body happy doing it’s thing, my mind sort of wandered off in thought and………with an sudden shock I woke up and realised I’d actually fallen asleep on the bike. Holy crap!!! I’ve had the shock effect happen once before, driving home from a sportive, when I drifted off on the motorway and the rumble strip woke me up. It’s like someone has thrown a bucket of cold water over you whilst simultaneously electrocuting you; waking you up, scaring you because you know you shouldn’t have fallen asleep, realising you’ve just had a very very lucky escape, and telling you that you need to be awake, and be awake NOW! I know I’ve been woozy on the bike before, but I could have sworn you can’t fall asleep on a bike. Well, you can. I am very pleased I didn’t fall off! Man, how weird is that?

So, properly awake, and more than a little freaked out, I made it up the hill, where conveniently and usefully, Guy was waiting at the second food stop. I was glad to stop, unsurprisingly, and boy did I ever feel weird. Although the sun was now out, and I was drying out a bit, I was actually getting cold, which is weird considering I hadn’t actually felt cold even when riding through the deluge. Something to do with evaporation apparently, as Guy was explaining to a fellow rider…though I had to get him to explain it to me again later when I was actually in a state to pay attention. I was feeling all wobbly and dizzy and weird and Guy actually stopped me falling over at one point; my balance was completely off.

So I took myself off to sit on a wall in the sun on my own for a bit, ate odd honey wafer things, and took some time to get myself together. The food station was running low on pretty much everything, as the guys behind the tables were chattering about amongst themselves, so there wasn’t going to be much left for anyone who came after us… And I know we’re slow but we weren’t being that slow, so there were going to be a fair few of them. In fact I’d actually been feeling really on form until the whole falling asleep thing! Feeling somewhat more human, I popped into a portable toilet for the obvious before rejoining Guy. I still wasn’t feeling right though, with mild nausea thrown in, and having not been in much pain up until now, I was now. So I took some additional pills, and even though I was feeling like I could possibly do the next half, after chatting a while, we decided that it might just not be wise for me to push it, all things considered. Guy knows his way around here, thanks to various previous events and being audax king ‘n all, and reckoned he knew some short cuts that would get us back sooner. Sadly my first century of the year was going to have to wait… Which made it time to get going again. Not before, now that the rain had stopped, I put my waterproof on, to keep me warm. I know, I’m perverse like that 😉

So we headed off, still following the route for the meantime. It was getting drier and warmer, since the best weather always comes after you’ve finished a sportive, right? 😉 I started to feel better fairly soon, but when the route split came – right for Medio/Granfondo, and straight on for Piccolofondo, I was still set on my “head for home” course. Make a decision – stick to it! This also meant, however, that we weren’t going to need to go off piste and follow Guy’s route, we could just follow the Piccolo signs home which also, being pragmatic, I reckoned would probably mean we were still covered by the event’s insurance and support. So off we went. What with it being warmer and drier now, it got nicer by the minute. It may only have been the Piccolo route but there were still a few little ups to be be dealt with, and then a really, really lovely long flying descent back to Chepstow. This put me back on familiar turf, which today felt good, as it meant I kinda knew how far I had to go. Plus, after some traffic lights, traffic shenanigans (the motorists there really weren’t our biggest fans) and some cycle path wiggling, I got to go back over the Severn Bridge again. This time in sunshine and under mostly blue skies 🙂 And very lovely it was too. Although Guy thinks we should have been able to go back on the other side, just so as not to repeat ourselves…and to get the full bridge experience of course.

Once back in Blighty, we knew the rest of the route was going to be pretty flat. Always motivational, no? Time to push on a bit then. I was now back to feeling good, and back on form. We took a brief stop at a little shop somewhere, where time was busy standing still, to purchase fizzy orange and the like. As we chatted outside, Jeremy (the organiser guy) pulled up in his car to check we weren’t lost. Which we weren’t…although to be honest, there weren’t quite enough signs today, and they didn’t stand out enough, so it could easily have happened. Having (finally!) stashed the odd layer, we carried on. Having missed the next right hand turning with Alan last year, I knew not to do it again. Besides, Jeremy was now there, standing next to his car, making sure that a) we didn’t miss this one, and that b) we didn’t miss the next one, which apparently had been being an issue. Not by now it wasn’t, as it now boasted about six arrows and also some cheerful bods pointing the way! So we turned right. As you do. Well, it would have been rude not to… 😉

Time to head for home. Which I was totally up for. In fact, my foot was on the gas, though not in a non-UCI approved way, and we fair hurtled along, for the last however many miles it was. I’m guessing at around 8 or so…? Lots of country lanes and warm sunshine, and I was having a blast. Sprint finish? 😉 Behind me Guy was heard to comment that you could tell I’d had my fizzy orange…*grin*. We even picked up a follower, who ended up clinging on to whoever’s was the rear wheel, all the way back! There was a bit of up to get us back up to civilisation, and then some suburban playing with buses to be done before there we were, back at HQ, sort of just like that. Man we flew back! 🙂 I think we’d worn our lanterne rouge out, as he sort of staggered in a little behind us, and was last seen walking away looking dejected…certainly too tired to say thank you for the tow anyway 😉

So Black Rat done. Half Granfondo, Half Piccolo. Which I’ll have you know still added up to 80+ miles, which ain’t too shabby, so there 😛 We stashed our bikes in the car, replaced the odd still damp layer with drier more civilised ones and headed back to enjoy the free pig roast, and the free cider in our free mugs. Oh and you could have a free bottle too, if you wanted one. Once again we had a bit of a chat with Jeremy who was wandering around, keeping everything under control, and fighting fires when they arose. I did tell him about the signage and the under stocked food station – it would have been rude to not say so then and then have him read it here!

Cycling time: 5:35
Distance: 81.3 miles
Avs: 14.6 mph

Overall, ignoring the obvious, I had a really good ride. I think I’m pretty much on form, and I’m definitely feeling better on the bike than I have for a couple of years. It’s just that sometimes my health issues get in the way, which is seriously frustrating! It’s also possible the new drug may be an issue too…if today is anything to go by. Anyway, the Black Rat is still a great event, mainly because the route is just lovely, and the scenery is beautiful. Not just because I get free cider at the end 😉 The organisers are great too, and I gather plans are afoot to organise it in tandem with “a large cycling club in Bristol” next year so as to have more bodies to help on the day, which sounds like a good thing. If they’ll have me, I’ll be back to do it again next year, and see if it is 🙂

Cycling Weekly Welsh Raider 2015

Apologies for the delay…usual excuses…etc. But hey, better late than never so here goes…

Most of my sportives are only a couple of hours away. It means they’re within driving distance and I can get there and back in a day. And the Welsh Raider was no different. But what with the nights drawing in and not feeling great these days, I figured I could use a couple of extra hours sleep the night before, and booked myself into the nearest Travelodge. Presumably that’s travelodgical…*groan*.

So on Friday night, off I went. Yes, Friday. The Welsh Raider was on a Saturday. I always like that, it means you have Sunday to recover and relax, and you don’t lose your entire weekend to one sportive. It was getting dark as I set off, and and proper dark when I arrived, having spent a couple of hours blindly following my satnav along a whole range of pitch black country roads. with no idea of what the scenery was like. Mind you, at least that kind of road means I stay awake – motorways + medication tend to send me to sleep, which ain’t great. Anway, I may have had no idea where I was when I got there, but I was pretty sure I was in the right place, as I parked up next to the UK Cycling Events van!

Having checked in I took myself off to the pub next door, The Squirrel, for some food. Scampi and chips, in case you’re interested. Having ordered, and whilst looking for somewhere to sit, I spotted a group who looked a lot like fellow cyclists to me, and as we chatted, they kindly asked me to join them. Apparently they were from the Grench cycling club – which is something to do with concatenating two village names, and nothing to do with Dr Seuss. I’m not good with names, but I think they were Mark, Nigel, Neil and Owen. Hi guys! It turned out to be a very amusing and enjoyable evening – which made a nice change from my usual pre-sportive nights. Sometimes doing these things on your own is actually good – you get to meet new people 🙂

I got a reasonably early night, and then predictably slept like something not at all resembling a baby. Why do hotels not have plug sockets next to the bed? My phone is my alarm clock. My phone needs charging overnight. So my phone is now not next to my bed. I must therefore now wake up at least every hour to check the time on my watch (old skool!) just in case something has happened to the phone and I have missed the alarm I’m not sure why this would be improved by the phone being next to the bed, but I just know it would! *grrr*.

Right then. Time to get up. Outside the window was…well, who knows? The sun wasn’t properly up but there was enough light around to reveal that last night’s meteorological fog warnings had come to fruition. It also looked pretty chilly out there. Marvellous. I made some guesses as to which layers of what kit was going to work for this, and with minimal faffing was on my way down the road to HQ at Ludlow Racecourse, all of 10 minutes away. I was there around 7:30am, when registration opened, and I was amongst the first arriving. It was cold, darkish, and still very foggy, which also meant it was damp. Lovely…

On my way to register I was quite impressed to see that each of the bike racks outside came with a track pump attached, which struck me as a really good idea, even if I didn’t need one. Mine was in my boot if I did. I headed inside, and after a brief spell in my queue, was given my map, cable ties, bike number (3713) and helmet timing chip. After nipping in to use the facilities I headed back outside to the car to faff for a bit. It wasn’t exactly inspiring weather for a sportive but I was here, and it was there to be done, so I could only put off the inevitable for so long! It was time to head for the start…

Today’s rider briefing was short and to the point which, as it was freezing standing around, was a good thing. Around 8:00am I, and a small group of other riders, headed off for the day ahead.

Right, once again, like the Bristol Belter, I need to explain the route set up. Think uneven figure of eight, with HQ in the off-centre middle. The right/east loop is sort of 40 miles, the left/west loop is sort of 65. The Short route does the 40. The Standard route does the 65. The Epic route does the Short route and then the Standard route – making up 105 miles. Which pretty much means you have to make a call between Epic and Standard within about 2 miles of setting off. I was here to do the Epic one so I duly turned right when the option arose, whilst almost everyone else didn’t! Too late now…

About 2 miles after that, whilst still freezing and not at all ready for it, came the first hill of the day. A pretty steep one has it happens! I may not have enjoyed it much but actually it proved fairly motivational as it didn’t feel as bad as I’d thought it might, thus leading me to think that today might be going to go ok. Mind you I’ve have been even happier about it if the roads across the top and back down again hadn’t been so sh*tty. And to the four riders who hurtled past me downhill one by one with absolutely no warning, while I was trying to avoid potholes, mud and gravel…? No, I won’t say it, but I did then, albeit probably under my breath. Probably. It didn’t amuse me at all when one of them undercooked the following corner and ended up in the hedge. Much. And before you tut at me for my black heart, he was absolutely fine, not even his ego was dented.

There was another bigger, or make that longer, hill a few miles on, and then after that the route settled into rolling. I’d looked at the profile before and had presumed it only looked relatively flat between hills due to scale. But it really was like that. It was also still foggy, freezing cold, and without views to look at or any sense of anything, it was a bit depressing. Life picked up at one point though, when a gentleman called Ray (I think) pulled alongside me and asked if I was me, which of course I was, and it turned out he reads my blog! How cool is that? Hi there! That definitely cheered me up a bit, and he also rode with me for a while which also helped, even though it would turn out to be the longest conversation I had all day. After a while, and another small up splitting us up, he headed off with my blessing, and I carried on my own without having to keep up 😉

The first food stop came at around 27 miles in and though I wasn’t feeling too bad it was nice to have a brief break. The fog meant that I was proper damp and although it wasn’t windy, the air temperature of the air going past me made for a significant wind chill factor – I was frozen right through! Remind me to not use that base-layer again – bamboo doesn’t seem to wick, and once that layer was cold and damp it just sat there keeping you that way! It was actually warmer being stopped, but I still didn’t hang around for too long. Places to be, many miles ahead, etc.

The route split came another rolling 13 miles later. I had been mulling my route choice over, since I wasn’t having a whole heap of fun out there, but having driven there, paid for a Travelodge, etc…well, that ain’t worth it just to ride 45 miles right? With a quick “you can do this” to myself, I didn’t go left, I carried on in to the foggy grey yonder on the Standard route, with another 65 miles ahead of me. Most of which I spent not just on my own but without another rider in sight – another side effect of the route set-up. The official times show just 96 riders doing the Epic route and judging by the times some of them recorded, some of them definitely didn’t! That means that there weren’t a lot of Epic riders out there and we few were also a long way behind the Standard route riders.

The route carried on rolling through the fog, with the odd actual up and down but nothing too noteworthy. None of it was making me any warmer or drier. I was breaking the time and miles left down into blocks to deal with, mentally & physically. I broke things up further with breaks for food, drink, and occasional photo ops as taking pics with the gloves on was tricky. I was really looking forward to the halfway mark since that’s always a bit of a mental attitude tipping point…and it even came with a church to photograph at precisely the opportune moment. There wasn’t a lot of scenery out there to admire, as I mentioned earlier and even the villages and towns seemed a bit unremarkable to me, so a pretty church was a sight to behold.

Time for another foodstop then, which I think was around the 56 mile mark. The ‘staff’ were lovely and friendly, and there may even have been a bit of banter 🙂 And there were fig rolls! At this point I was feeling ok. Just ok, but ok is ok. Ok and over halfway. The terrain was proving to be doable even if I wasn’t doing it as fast as I felt I ought to be given the lack of big hills. What’s new? And I was bound to warm up sooner or later as the forecast had better things in store for the afternoon, right? Time to go and get the rest of it done then. Off I set, up through the town, up something that I guess was a small hill but really wasn’t anything special. However… Halfway up it my left knee “went”. I can’t describe that really. I wasn’t doing anything different to usual, I was just pedalling, which I’m fairly sure I’ve done before! But something failed/scrunched/popped…and it started hurting. Now I’ve had a niggling knee problem since my L2P in 2009 but that’s sort of background. This wasn’t that. Well ok, it kind of was, in that it was in the same sort of place, but it was most definitely foreground! And for the next 49 miles every left pedal stroke hurt a bit. Nice, no? No! I have to say it did very little for my joie de vivre…

There was nothing to be done about it, I just had to keep going. The only way I was getting back was to get myself back. So I rolled on. I knew it wasn’t going to stay rolling…there was at least one proper big hill between me and HQ, in fact between me and the next food stop, which had me a little worried. In the meantime it brightened up a bit, and the fog cleared, but I still didn’t get as far as needing to remove layers, I just carried on and counted down the miles to that hill… At a couple of points I even saw a couple of other riders! There was also some scenic stuff to admire too; I vaguely recall a nice bit along a tree covered river, which reminded me of similar in the Pyrenees last year. However I figured I must be in Wales when I saw my favourite road markings 🙂 And there was even a level-crossing. Train tracks have been known to be the bane of my life but I made it over these at the recommended 90 degree angle and stayed on the bike…

I was getting increasingly tired and less with it. Being cold, the knee hurting, the relentless rolling, I think it was all just getting to me. And my performance up that very big long hill was abysmal! I mean I made it up, hairpins and all, but there really wasn’t anything in the tank. There was a sign by the road calling it “Ceri” at some point but I’ve no idea if that’s the name of the hill or the nature reserve on it, or what. I just know that it went on and on forever…most unusual for English hills. Which is probably because it was Welsh 😉

Still, just briefly there, on the way up, there was sunshine, and views, and hey, after this hill it was going to be essentially downhill all the way back. It wasn’t that bad, right? These are the things you keep telling yourself to keep you going… A little sign at the top told me I should cheer up, because I could be mowing the lawn. Actually mowing the lawn sounded like a perfectly acceptable alternative to me… 😉 But it did mean the hill was finally behind me, and it was time for the third and final food stop.

There were other riders here, the same faces as I’d seen before at food stops and occasionally on the road. There weren’t many of us though! We chatted briefly, and I wasn’t the only one not feeling it, or not feeling my feet for that matter. But chatting wasn’t going to get me home. I set off on my own again and the last 20 miles were, yes, you guessed it, rolling, although with a downwards trend overall. And those miles were also pretty much purgatory. It clouded over again and got colder. I got tireder, my lower back started hurting, the knee got worse, and even with gels and eating and drinking I was definitely running on empty. I can’t tell you much more about that last section other than it seemed to take a very long time! I’d assumed that defeated, head sunk between shoulder blades drooping, position and the world had shrunk down to just me, the road ahead of me, and my need to get back. Then 105 miles turned out to be 106.4 which isn’t a big deal really, but did mean I spent the last mile or so wondering if I was lost on top of feeling out of it! Luckily, as with all UK Cycling Events, the plentiful signage kept reassuring me I wasn’t. I kept following the arrows, kept pedalling, and finally I was back at the race course and limping under the Finish arch.

Cycling time: 7:13
Distance: 106.4 miles
Avg: 14.7 mph
ODO: 11326.3 miles

There weren’t many people left around, unsurprisingly. The timing team handed me my medal and various goodies – a Power Bar recovery drink, a magazine, Craisins, & pistachios – and I parked up on one of the racks I’d seen so many hours before. There was no sign of the tea/coffee on offer, and the masseur was busy, so I gave up looking, retrieved my bike and headed for the car. It took me a while to figure out how to get into the car however…my brain had so gone elsewhere. I’d gone so far beyond, that I couldn’t think straight. Everything hurt, nothing wanted to move anymore, and I was wiped out! Looking back later, I realised that it was my longest ride this year, and my first century since May, so maybe it’s no surprise that it was hard work? After a while sitting in the boot of my car, I got it back together enough to get changed, load up, and nip into HQ for a quick freshen up before heading off.

Not that I got far! A couple of miles down the road I realised that there was no way I was going to get home in one piece in that state, so I pulled into the next available lay-by, locked the doors drank a can of Red Bull, closed my eyes, and was out like a light. It’s a good thing I set an alarm, otherwise I might have still been there the next morning! As it was, 45 minutes later, I was up, feeling much better, and had a lovely drive home down through the Wye Valley and over the new Severn Crossing which, as you should know by now, I love 🙂

So. I guess it’s a nice enough event. I’m sure on a good day it’s much nicer. It’s well run – let’s face it UK Cycling Events know what they’re doing by now. But 2 average hills, 1 big one, and a lot of rolling means that the only real challenge to it is the distance. The way the route is set up reduces your options on the day and leaves long route riders lonesome. There are also prettier parts of the country, in my opinion anyway. So of all the events they run, for whomever, I’m not sure why you’d do this one, and I don’t think I’d do it again. Having said that I am still perversely pleased that I did what I set out to do. Goal achieved. My knee was not and is not… But I do feel like I earned my little reward on Sunday, not that I ever need an excuse to drink fizz 😀

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 🙂