Category Archives: Cyclosport

Tour of Pembrokeshire 2016

Life frequently does not go according to plan. (Which, as an aside, is presumably why we like it so much when a plan does actually come together, right?) So it turned out, at fairly short notice, that I would be doing this Tour of Pembrokeshire weekend on my own. Something which, considering my current issues with both driving and riding, did have me somewhat worried. Marvellous… 🙁

Luckily I’d booked Friday off a while ago, so I had the whole day to get myself sorted, and get myself down to Pembrokeshire. There was no time pressure, and I would have plenty of time to stop and take a break, or maybe even visit something, on the way down. Although I wasn’t looking forward to the drive, having had a truly bad week, I was actually feeling a little better, which was good, and positive, and so forth.

So after extra sleeping, and faffing, and packing, on Friday afternoon I spent three and a half hours driving through wind and rain down various motorways, heading as far West as you can go. Not nice. Honestly, what is it with me and going to Pembrokeshire?!! I was not amused… I was also not enjoying myself on several levels. What with the weather forecast for the day, I’d decided visiting castles was probably out, so I’d left a little later than maybe I would have done otherwise. And hey, just for once the forecast was right. Which is neither here nor there. It just meant I didn’t have a visit to somewhere planned to break up the ride, so I had to take a break from it all at Swansea West services, which I am more than a little familiar with by now, and chill out in Costa for a while with a caramel mocha. I figured that that, on top of the energy drink I’d already had, would hopefully get me there in one piece…

Which eventually it did. I arrived at Crug Glas, the Tour of Pembrokeshire‘s new HQ and also my home for the weekend, early eveningish, and discovered my friend Peter, previous MD of the Tour, and ( I think) still owner of Pembrokeshire Bikes, helping out near the entrance. I parked up near what would be the Bike Park the following day, and went and said hi, before checking in, and relocating my car to the hotel car park. Which put it closer to my room, well out of the way of sportive chaos, and actually visible from my hotel room. I left my bike there to sleep in peace though – my room was far too luxury to have my bike parked up in it! As it turns out, it was the same room I stayed in for the ToP 2013…very lovely, and complete with an amazing bath which there and then I resolved to actually use this time around at some point!

Time to go register, in the little marquee set up next to the newly renovated outbuilding next door to the hotel – the large and very swish Cow Shed. Which wasn’t as easy for me as everyone else was finding it. I went to my desk, but they had no record of me… It turns out that, thanks to my guest status, my name was on a specific list. Which wasn’t currently around. So my name was down but I still wasn’t coming in… 😉 Nowt for it than to go and install myself in the bar and make myself comfortable until everything worked itself out.

Which, while chatting to Peter again, over a rather expensive pint of pre-ride hydrating Perroni, it did. A nice lady called Elizabeth found me, and I was presented with my route card, bike number, helmet number, cable ties, free High5 gel voucher, and post ride food voucher, all without having to leave my seat. Bonus! I did have to leave to go and cash in my gel voucher though, and have a look at the few stands and tempting bikes on display though. N + 1? 😉 After a while spent chatting to various people back at the bar, it was time to carb load, even if I gather ‘they’ are currently saying that carb loading is rubbish… Food was on offer at £10 for a main course & salad & bread roll…or £8 if you’d booked beforehand. Which I had. So I had a massive bowl of gluten-free pasta carbonara which was actually (and though I shouldn’t say it, surprisingly) really nice. Not entirely IBS safe but half the way there, and hey, apparently I should eat before I ride… So I did. I passed on dessert though even if it would only have cost me £3. Best not to overdo it right? Job done then; time to head back to my room, faff a little more, check the weather forecast even more, and get an earlyish night.

I slept! ‘Rah! Must have been the very high and comfy four poster bed…*grin*. Which didn’t make the 5:50 alarm call any nicer. And it was only 5:50 so I could hit snooze, pretend to ignore it, and actually get up at 6:00am 😉 So alright already, I’m up! I checked the weather forecast again – cold, dry, sunny, northerly winds. I looked out of the window to see what the actual weather actually looked like. Sunshine…! Hm… Time to make coffee, from a little bag. Which was a new one to me – but a huge improvement on the usual powdered option. Can’t help it, I’m a coffee snob 😉 So breakfast was coffee, a hobnobs flapjack, a banana, and shiny pills. Gotta love my diet, no? I could have had breakfast over in the Cow Shed, at £1 per item, with porridge, bacon, etc. all on offer, but I’m lazy, and prefer to stick to what I know. As for getting dressed in kit – well, layers of course, right? But how many and which ones? I looked out of the window again. At the continuing sunshine. At the riders parking up in the field beyond, walking over to register, in an assortment of outfits, but many of them being in shorts. It’s that awkward time of year when sunny can actually be really warm… But, having opened the window to check, it wasn’t warm yet, even if it was going to be. And I’ve done the ToP many times and never been warm, and most of my recent rides have been cold, and the forecast said… Oh I hate decisions!

I opted for essentially winter kit but with a short sleeve base layer and a lighter weight mid layer. And nothing in my saddle bag, kit wise, so as to give me room to try and stash anything I chose to remove en route. Thus attired I headed downstairs to wake the bike up and add the finishing touches to both it and me – bottles, gadgets, food, gels, the usual. The tannoy was announcing the countdown to the 100 mile route leaving slot – 7:00-7:30am – and I reckoned I’d be there in time enough. It took me a while to attach the somewhat flimsy number to the bike, and even longer to get the helmet bike chip cable tied on. It doesn’t help when you manage to get it around the helmet straps first time around and have to start over…! It’s a good thing that, as a hardened sportive veteran, I carry both scissors and spare cable ties with me. Not my favourite variety of timing chip it has to be said, and according to the instructions if you didn’t return it for some reason you’d be liable for a £10 fine too! So, all done, it was chilly but not that bad, and the sun was shining…and I was half tempted to run back inside and change…but I didn’t. Would I regret it…? Oh man, I hate decisions!

Finally sorted, I walked over to HQ. There was a queue for the portable toilets outside, so I nipped inside, where there wasn’t. Time to get to the start line then. The first groups had already gone, so there were just a few of us doing the same. With no ceremony at all, someone scanned my chip, and I was sent on my way…just like that. Considering the comprehensive pre-ride rider briefing pdf, I guess they figured an actual rider briefing was superfluous… Which was fine by me, I didn’t want to hang around getting cold anyway. 7:15 and I was off. Blue skies, bright sunshine, long low shadows hiding the road, way before the locals were hitting the road… It all felt a bit unreal, or surreal, or something. The routes have changed a bit this year, and not just because of the change of start venue. I thought I might notice more, but I can’t decide if it was all new, or just that I’ve forgotten large chunks of my previous Tours, which is quite likely considering how long it usually takes me and how much hard work I always find it!

As ever, I tried not to think too much early on. It was cold, but sunny. The scenery was as ever, gorgeous. I was feeling ok. I recognised bits. It seemed easier than previous years somehow. But maybe that’s because the route was different… So hard to tell. But I was feeling ok…in fact at some points I was feeling like maybe it was going to get too warm and I’d have to find a way to dump layers somewhere, cos I was getting warm and I don’t ride well overheated. Should I do the 100 miles? Because I should, and prove that I can, and prove everyone wrong, and I haven’t done 100 miles yet this year, and I was feeling ok, and it was sunny and…. But maybe I shouldn’t push it, and it might not turn out nice, and I have a lot more sportives to come, and I should do the 75…

Thus went my head for the first hour or so. The first few bits of up came and went ok. Even those nasty little kicks up that come after swoopy dips down to the coast – all good. Even good enough to smile for the inevitable official photographers lurking on them. Well I did know those bits were there, so was prepared, and and in the right gear etc…unlike quite a few… 🙂 The downs called for a little more caution than usual, thanks to the shadows hiding the road surface under all the trees, and pothole paranoia looming large. But all in all, along the quiet country roads, in the sunshine, looking at the sea, I was a fairly happy bunny. Hey, life is always better at the beach…so I really enjoyed the bit from Goodwick to Fishguard 🙂

The first route split – for the 50 mile route – came about 16 miles in at Llanychaer. That wasn’t an option however. Turn left, go over the little bridge, and straight up the 25% climb instead. Well, not straight up, it’s definitely more hair pin-y…and steep…and it hurt. Sadly literally, not in the “I’m crap at riding and so this hurts” sense. More in the, ‘there’s a little black hole lurking in my insides that is now imploding in a painful and energy sapping way‘ sense. Hard to explain but I know what I mean. I don’t know if black holes implode or explode however, and if you’re a science geek, feel free to correct me safe in the knowledge that I will ignore you. Still, I got up the darn thing, and things settled down, however my 75 mile vs 100 mile internal debate had gained some weight on the lighter side, which is some way to being an oxymoron… But I carried on, and things carried on being mostly ok. At some point I even took the over gloves and winter neck thing off… All good. I’ve done this ride a lot of times…and the weather has never ever been this good! However it didn’t get warmer… And as we got higher from time to time and hit the northerly winds, it frequently got chillier… And then warmer going up. And then chillier again… Or maybe it was just me? Plenty of people still seemed to be surviving in shorts and short sleeves…madmen all of them. And that’s not sexist, there weren’t many women out there, and I didn’t see any of them in shorts!

The first food stop was at Llys Meddyg in Newport, where this year’s Prologue ride ran from, about 25 miles in. There were volunteer cadet/guides/whatever around, offering to hold your bike for you while you sorted yourself out. Which was nice in theory, but felt a bit weird. Yes, please take my bike, and then just stand there, until I see fit to return and take it away again. Clearly I’m not used to having staff…so I declined politely and no doubt awkwardly, and parked my bike up by a fence instead. Food of all varieties was disappearing as soon as it appeared – pasties, bananas, boiled potatoes, jam sandwiches…all being topped up as I watched. I nipped off to the hotel’s outdoor toilets, returned, and opted for the root vegetable option. Variety right? Nice too 🙂 From where I was standing I could see the route split. And I kinda wanted to do the long route. I’ve always tried to. And I was currently feeling like it might be possible. But I was also still pretty cold. Bearing in mind my current average speed, I could be adding an extra three hours on to my ride. On my own and out in the cold. And it had been a pretty bad week. But I was feeling ok. And I hate bailing… Did I mention I hate decisions? 😉

But I bailed, if you can call it that on this ride. To be fair, I know 100 mile rides that are easier than 75 miles of this one! I think if I’d had company, it might have been a different call… But I didn’t, and it wasn’t, and I had decided I should play it safe, not least because I have a sportive every weekend for the next 4 weekends after this one. Besides I’ve never done the 75 mile route…that’s a legitimate reason to do so, from a reviewing standpoint, right? 😉

OK then. So long Moylegrove. Farewell my favourite coast bit. Auf wiedersehn Poppit Sands. Goodbye extra hills… To be fair I’d already had some climbing. Some coast. The lovely descent to Newport. And hey, as someone pointed out much, much later, I did do all of those bits on this year’s Prologue, so who needs to be doing them twice in a year anyway? 😉

Further North and further up was further colder. (And I know that adjective doesn’t really work but…hey, my blog). The few winter bits that came off went back on again. And came off again with more ups. And on again after…and btw, zips are great things… There was quite a lot of climbing ahead as it happens. Lots of lovely long slow ups, to wide open moor lands, where the whole world stretched out under blue skies. Which was cool. I was going up fine. Not fast, not as fast as the steam trains occasionally going past me. But happily enough for me. My legs and my lungs and my form was feeling pretty good, and I was doing my best to enjoy myself.

But something was rotten in the state of Denmark. I was still cold. And, in retrospect, when I did get off the bike to stash/retrieve layers, eat, take photos, whatever, my balance was off. (Why do I never remember that’s a sign that at some level I’m overdoing it?) My next pain killers were due at 10:30, and I’m usually ok with those – once I’m on them, and taking them regularly, all is sorted… Not today. Hills were making things hurt more, however well I was going up them. The pain got worse, and in a big way, but I couldn’t take more pills yet… Being cold wasn’t helping; I cope less well with anything when I’m cold. And I think I get colder when in pain, because my body is busy coping with other things. Vicious circle, etc. Finally the time came, having plodded my way up a long and very lovely hill with beautiful views, when I could stop. It was finally that time. 10:30ish, around 3:15 in. So I found a quiet little off the road bit, with a bank so I could hide from the biting wind, got off the bike, lost my balance, and pretty much lost it completely. Which I wasn’t really expecting. Only it was hurting SO much, and I was cold, and I was in the middle of nowhere on my own with a long way to go… Cue massive meltdown. I sat there for a little while, hugging my knees, it being the closest I could get to foetal position I guess, and sobbed my heart out for a bit. Not my finest hour…good thing I was out of easy sight. Honest, it’s no wonder no-one wants to ride with me! 😉 Hey, maybe in company I’d have done the stiff upper lip thing…we’ll never know…

Even in the middle of nowhere it turns out I wasn’t alone though. You gotta love technology. A mate of mine had pinged me mid-ride to see how I was getting on…who then got it both barrels! (sorry!). But having been sent hugs and reassurance, mentally slapped myself, taken a gel, and of course the next dose of pills, with ibuprofen thrown in on top for good measure, I started to get it together. Let’s face it, I had no other option, it was time to carry on. Well, you don’t call the broom wagon for that kind of thing do you? To be honest, if someone had been there to swoop down, pick me up, take me home, and tuck me into bed to sleep until it was all over…I’d have gone. But hey, back in the real world…

21 second food stop map 22 sheltered valley

Typically, all of 5 minutes further down the road was the next food stop, conveniently tucked away out of the wind… And yes, I didn’t need to stop again, but I did. Well, I had to get my chip scanned anyway, right? Once more I dodged the ‘staff’, I ate potatoes, and then I spent a spell sitting on a picnic bench warming up in the sun. Hey, my time was going to be rubbish anyway so what did a few more minutes elapsed time matter? 😉

Right, time to get going again. It was about 37 miles in, so that was half way, and that always helps mentally. Having had a good look at the map on the display I knew there were only a couple more climbs ahead, and even another food stop. That had to be doable, especially now I was a bit warmer, and the pills would hopefully cut in soon. So…let’s get it on, right?

And it did get easier eventually. Shortly afterwards there was a lovely long stretch along a sheltered valley, all green trees, blue skies, yellow flowers and most importantly, none of that bitter wind! Bliss…I started to feel a bit warmer. And on the flat I was going pretty well. I liked that. Inevitably there was a long climb out of the valley at the end, but even that was ok. I’d rather be a bit warm than too cold, and I CAN do hills! And, as some of you have probably noticed by now, I actually quite like them 🙂 OK, I like them more when they hurt less, but that’s not the point. There was another food stop, about 25 miles from the end, where I stopped because I thought I should, not because I needed to, but with that long a gap ahead I thought I should make sure I was topped up with drink. And potatoes 😉 There was clearly going to be musical entertainment here too shortly, but having started early and taken the shorter route (clearly not the only one to do so!) that wasn’t quite up and running yet.

And now I had 25 miles more to do. That I can count down. That I can do. Especially when a lot of it was both familiar and fairly flat. Turns out I could still fly along on that, as my slowly increasing average speed demonstrated. There was, as there had been all day, plenty of support en route. Cowbells, people clapping, small children waving, one with a sign saying “Be determined, you can get around this course”. Colour me determined 😉 The pills were finally working, the legs were still working, the sun was still shining, and I’d even rolled my sleeves up a little. Go me! However there was a nasty climb at Whitchurch which sort of stopped play for a while. Having joined up with a lot of the 50 milers by now there were a fair few walking riders for me to overtake though. I went past a walking girl, and said hi…because today most riders were friendlier than usual. Most of those who’d gone past me all day had found time to say “hi”, “morning” or whatever, or at least “on your right” and I had been doing the same in my turn. She heard me, turned, and said on seeing me, “oh wow you’re doing so well”… Now admittedly she may not have been referring to the fact that I was still pedalling up the hill while she was walking. She may have thought I was on the 100 mile route and must have been going some to be going past her already, which clearly I wasn’t. But a little bit of me did think you know what? All things considered, I sure as f*ck am…! And then pedalled on to the top 🙂 *grin*.

The final big hill being done, the last few ups on the way back, some which I remembered from previous rides, didn’t even really register with me this time around. I was on my way home, and there was to be no stopping me. The route after this has definitely changed – it now goes back in straight through the countryside to come in through St Davids (past the old Oriel y Parc venue) and back to Crug Glas HQ in a far more sensible way. It’s flattish too. At times I could see the sea stretching out far beyond, tankers lining up out there along the coast, islands, blue water, blue skies…very lovely 🙂 After St Davids, heading back sort of NE, the last few miles back into the head wind might not have been a lot of fun, but I was nearly there, so it was ok. Put my head down, get on with it. Hey, I wanted to get back before the next dose was due! I had picked up a couple of riders at the traffic lights just before St Davids, and we played tag for a bit before I dropped them for a while…and then there were two of us again for the final stretch, counting down the last few miles. Then it was back down the drive, past various supporters to the Finish line, to have my head scanned (well people have been known to say I need my head read!). My timing number was removed, and I was given my commemorative coaster and some sort of fruit drink. Job done.

I walked slowly down the road towards HQ, and had a brief chat to Elizabeth who I’d met the day before and who had ridden the 50 with Peter for charity. There were happy riders everywhere posing for photos, sitting outside on the grass in the sun, eating, drinking, with music blaring – and there was a really nice atmosphere. Which sort of passed me by. I bumped into Peter himself and we agreed to meet for a beer shortly. I was feeling a bit other worldly myself…and very gently walked my way to my car to tuck the bike back into bed, before joining him in the bar. On the way in I met Jim, a friendly, familiar ToP team face. He asked me if I’d had a good ride…and I tried, but oh man, talk about an awkward question… I’d like to have lied, but I was a bit raw at the time, and I sort of explained, and he gave me a not awkward hug, which I really appreciated. Peter appeared as if by magic and took me off to the bar, but I had to leave him there queueing to go and sit down, where he joined me with the Perroni I had so earned! However when asked once again how I was and how it had been, by a friend? Yep…lost it completely…again *sigh*. Which brings the tally of complete meltdowns today to two. I guess you don’t know how hard you’ve been holding it together until you don’t have to anymore? Sorry Peter! Chapeau to him for coping so well too. And I got it together fairly quickly I think – I don’t do weak and girly for any longer than I absolutely have to, and besides my lager would get warm, right? 😉 We got back to talking about the ride more generally and how it had gone for us all. Not that I had much to contribute. Yes, I’d done it, and I’d love to say there was some massive sense of achievement which, I suppose you could argue that there should be. 72 miles on top of all that…? But I just felt disappointed by myself, wiped out, tired, & emotional. F.I.N.E? Ah well….

Although food wasn’t my problem today, I figured it wouldn’t do any harm to eat, and it would be a shame to miss out on my free pig roast roll (beef was also on offer) from Gwaun Valley Meats. The marquee outside was now housing them and the massage team, and I’m glad I queued for that which I was entitled, as it was lovely, and by this point I’d ceased worrying about safe food! 🙂 (For those that wanted something else, the same £10 meal option was still available in the Cowshed, along with cake, tea, coffee etc). Having got it together a bit more, eventually I took myself off with another beer, to take refuge in that massive bath as I’d promised myself I would. Which was, as hoped, truly awesome. Tour of Pembrokeshire done. Again. Well. Kinda 😉

It was, and is, a great event, with the best weather I’ve ever seen for it. You should do it. It just wasn’t a great, or the best, me. The really ironic thing is that according to Strava, I actually had a pretty good ride. Some PRs, some 2nd bests, up a lot of the climbs, and of course downs, around there. With a max speed of 51.4mph! (not that I believe that…) And other than the obvious I felt pretty good out there. It’s just SO frustrating! Even writing about it is a bit upsetting…it’s the first time it’s ever been like that for a ride, and what with ‘it’ getting worse as time goes on, I do worry about what that means for the rest of my very full season… But hey, don’t go borrowing trouble right? Hopefully I’ll be back again next year, and I will kick the ar*e of the long route!

Cycling time: 5:37
Actual time: 6:23 (I think)
Distance: 71.4 miles
Avs: 12.7 mph

PS: – apparently the timing system that actually turned up – chip to be scanned manually on helmet – wasn’t what was ordered…so a little critical leeway should be granted for that… 😉

Meon Vale Spring Classic

Welcome to the first sportive of my season. Which is actually the second review. I’ve gotten all behind and out of sync and well…whatever…here it is.

I was a bit nervous beforehand. The forecast had not been great, it’s early in my season, and all the other usual worries that bother me were bothering me. I’d spent all week telling myself it was only 80k so not a big deal really. So it’s just as well I checked a couple of days before and discovered it was actually 100k, not 80k. This is fine when you’re prepared for it, but not when you’re out on the course, tired, and spending an hour not reaching the finish line you’re looking for. That can definitely do your head and PMA in. Forewarned, forearmed 🙂

So, which sportive are we talking about? Well this year I’m trying to do more events that I haven’t done before, which is why I’d picked the CFC Meon Vale Spring Classic – aka the Daffodil Ride – to start the season with. (Sadly the page for the event no longer exists on their website, so I’ll point you at their Events page instead in case you want to do another of their events instead). As with quite a few of my events, due to proximity and easy access, it’s in the Cotswolds – and in this case the northerly chunk. HQ was at the new Meon Vale Leisure Centre, about two hours drive from here.

It was not the nicest drive in the world. It was early, I was tired, it was cold and grey and dreary and just, well…a bit snooze inducing. I took a break at one of the usual M5 service stations, where the early morning tumble weed were blowing around the empty car park – most normal people still being in bed at such an ungodly hour on Sunday. HQ opened at 8:00am and I was there not long after. It’s a new leisure centre on a new housing development, all of which is shiny and new and clean and possibly just a little bit toy town, but hey, it’ll all age and bed in. When the pre-event email had said that coffee etc would be available at the Londis shop/cafe in the village – the big purpose built shop here was not quite what I’d imagined…not that I’d be visiting it anyway. I had my own very good coffee with me 🙂 Interesting the pictures your brain paints with very little information though… 🙂

I drove past the shop, into the leisure centre grounds, and was marshalled through a security barrier onto a gravel car park section, the small tarmac section directly adjacent to the leisure centre being full already. Some poor marshal was having to make the barrier work every time, which struck me as a bit of a chore, so I wasn’t surprised when, walking back from registration later, I discovered they’d found a way to make it be open all the time.

There weren’t that many riders around inside yet, so no queuing for registration, or the toilets – all new ‘n clean ‘n nice ‘n all, but not very generous in number – there would be queues later… As for registration, this is a charity ride – CFC stands for Cyclists Fighting Cancer. So to keep costs down there was to be no official timing, though for those that wanted to compare times they’d set up Strava segments for the two routes available – 100km and 60km. So, no timing chip to collect, just a map, bike number & cable ties, in return for a signature as usual. Talking of costs, entry was just £12 for 100km and £11 for the 60km, plus it’s for charity…doesn’t that make a nice change?

I headed back to the car, past that open barrier, to faff as usual. It was COLD! Even though the forecast was now actually ok, what with it going to be a fairly short ride, I didn’t think there was much chance of it getting too warm before I was done, so I had pretty much every winter layer I own on. Having resorted to posting a photo of the bike on FB, as you do, apparently it looked like I was going on a camping holiday…oh ye who mock my saddle bag! And top tube bag. Well I’ll have you know they’re both very useful! And if you’d like some better more sports related excuse, call it training under load or something… Just think how fast I’ll be when the summer bike and summer wheels come out to play? 😉 At least my pack horse was all clean and oiled and everything – yes, I do occasionally wash it. And photographic proof is always good…as no-one ever believes me when I say that *grin*.

Getting the bike set up was a bit of a pain in the ar*e actually. Or is that literally? My new (ish) mudguards may be wonderful things, but they don’t like it when the bike gets put in the back of the car…and the front one had gotten all bent of shape. I got all bent out of shape trying to get it back in to shape! My hands were clearly freezing, as I somehow managed to cut a knuckle without realising it…until I realised I was dripping blood all over things! Not a big deal – just one of those little irritating on a joint things – and it stopped soon enough. I did finally get the wheel and mudguard to stop touching each other though, which was the main point.

The rest of my car park was full now, and the marshals were busy on their radios debating whether or not it was ok to park the still arriving cars on the grassier bits. I guess they didn’t want to the the ones who trashed all the new landscaping if it wasn’t! I’m guessing it was though because I didn’t see them turning anyone away 😉 All wrapped up, both bike and me, I headed back to queue for the toilet, before queuing at the start line along with everyone else. And it was as cold standing around as feared. The guy next to me was doing his first sportive, having come back from Dubai last year…I bet he was feeling it, and I kinda felt for him!

We reached the front of the queue, and after a short safety briefing, were let go on our merry way. The ride itself is a lot like the Mad March Hare, unsurprisingly as it covers a lot of the same ground. That did add a nice degree of familiarity to it, without it being same old same old (I’ve done the MMH a good few times). I recognised bits. Hills especially. All of which today turned out to be ones I’d done before, if not all on the same event, which was nice because I knew that they were totally doable. It was all very doable really. Pretty countryside, ploddy hills, bit draggy from time to time, not stunning, but pleasant enough. I’d not studied the route too much and, it being the Cotswolds, I’d sort of been expecting it to be hillier, and it’s always nice when a route turns out to be easier than you’d expect!

The route split came at the top of Dovers Hill though, which was one of the biggest climbs of the day, so whichever route you did, you didn’t get to get out of it. I quite enjoyed it, in my own odd way. I can get up hills. And I like that 🙂 I also liked the Snowshill descent afterwards which is long, fast, and straight, without a junction at the bottom – perfect! Especially with there being no traffic on it – of any variety – not even horse riders. Who are a bigger problem here than in some places, as we’d been warned. It’s a popular area for equestrians, which is probably somewhat related to the affluence of the area! 😉 Mind you, it may be affluent, but that doesn’t mean the road surfaces are better here than anywhere else. By which I mean that a lot of them were pretty crap. Which has nothing to do with this sportive in particular and more to do with the state of UK roads in general, and I spent quite a while from time to time hankering after the beautiful smooth Spanish roads from my training camp…*sigh*

The first food stop was due a little bit before halfway, in the very pretty village of Stanton, but my painkillers were wearing off well before then. I was tempted to wait but…as it happens at the top of a long hill I found a car park that even had a toilet block so I took an impromptu break there to top up and unload, as it were. I even went so far as swop the winter gloves for the summer ones…a decision which I reversed about twenty minutes later when I realised I was losing feeling in my fingers! Yep – still cold out there then!

That foodstop actually turned out to be at the 24 mile mark which, on a 62 mile sportive, really seemed a bit too soon. That would leave 38 miles still to do…and after 24 miles I’ve usually only just sort of hit my stride. However there it was, and it was well stocked, with a variety of food on offer, and a few portable toilets. I topped up my bottle, grabbed a few jelly babies – my current foodstop fodder of choice – before heading off again. It was, as I’ve probably said a few too many times, too cold for hanging around much.

As the miles ticked by under grey skies, the very cold continued. However miraculously, around the middle of the day hints of actual shadows started to appear. Both skies and spirits lightened, and by 1:30pm it was actually blue and sunny and even somewhat warmer. Warmer I said. Not warm 😉 On the upside, there wasn’t much wind to speak off all day – and that’s always a very good thing! I was glad of my kit choices; it’s always nice when you get that right.

Country lanes, Cotswold stone houses, thatched cottages, cute villages, daffodils, snowdrops…sounds nice doesn’t it?. There was the slightly busier, more developed and larger, Stow on the Wold thrown in though, and even the odd traffic light for us all to dutifully stop at…though I may have cut it close at one of those busier junctions…hope I made it! Well, I know ALL cyclists jump red lights, right? But… 😉

The second half of the ride was flatter, and the last 15 miles even more so. Flatter, faster, sunnier…oh go on then, this IS fun…and then all the miles were done, and there I was, crossing the Finish Line to be greeting by a small welcoming committee. My number was clipped off for me, and I was presented with my bunch of daffodils – lovely. Both nice touches, and I do like daffodils 🙂 I grabbed a free bottle of water and headed back to the car feeling quite pleased with myself really. I’d enjoyed it, and it was a great way to start my season. I didn’t beat any records, but I did feel sort of capable out there? Like this girl can? The first sportive of the year was under my belt – a slow but solid ride. Cool beans 🙂

I could have had a shower in the changing rooms. I could have taken my bike number to the Londis cafe area and got a free hot drink. But I didn’t. Hey, I’m lazy…I just packed the car up and headed for home. Back to the kids, to a cold beer, and to a nice roast dinner 🙂

Cycling time: 4:31
Distance: 62.8 miles
Avs: 13.9 mph

Cotswold Spring Classic 2016

Easter Monday dawned with a 5:00am alarm call. I’d managed to get a reasonable night’s sleep but that didn’t stop it feeling early. And I woke up to the kind of weather that I wouldn’t usually leave the house in, let alone drive my slightly high-sided car anywhere in. However my normally rational brain fails dismally when it comes to sportives for some reason. Even with Storm Katie battering down the door! It’s something to do with having said I’d do it, and that I’d review it, and having a conscience and being stubborn I guess…

Regardless (clearly!) of the weather, I’d left by 6:00am, in the dark, since the clocks sprang forward yesterday, robbing me of an hour of my birthday (rude!). I spent 1.5 hours driving in the wet, windy, slowly lightening dark, through standing water, clouds of spray, and roads covered in debris, clenching my insides slightly every time the wind relocated the car on the road. Good core muscle practice…or something…honestly, I must be mad…(and yes, I know you’re all nodding, and agreeing, and thinking that the cycling has nowt to do with that..). All this, just for a sportive?!

Actually, oddly, one of the biggest challenges to sportives these days is getting me there and back in one piece, which has nothing to do with the weather. As with last week’s sportive (which I’ll blog after this – I’m a bit behind and out of sync), partially as a result of being tired, but far more to do with my drug regime, I found myself getting drowsy both on the way there and back, and even on the bike sometimes, which ain’t great! It’s sort of ok on the way home, because I can stop and nap if I need to. There’s no provision for doing that on the way there, other than getting up earlier to allow for it, which would just make me more tired, and somewhat defeat the object methinks. As for feeling drowsy on the bike…well that’s just plain weird. Still…I’m writing this right, so clearly I made it there, round, and back in one piece 🙂 However I am grateful to those of my mates who have volunteered to accompany me to some of my other sportives this year. Some of them have even agreed to ride around with me too. That’s supposing they can stay vertical going that slowly of course… 😉

HQ for today’s Cotswold Spring Classic Sportive was Cirencester Deer Park School. Registration opened at 7:00am and I was there sometime around 7:20 ish. Well wrapped up and luminous marshals guided the small peloton of cars that I’d become part of into the car park. Having a smaller car than them I was pointed to a different aisle, marginally nearer to HQ – result! I was half tempted, having done this one before, to sort everything out and then go register when all ready to go, as it is a bit of a walk and it would be a walk in the cold, wind, and rain. So why do it twice? But if I did that I’d be far too early for the 8:00am start time, and hanging out, even inside, killing time whilst wet, cold & damp didn’t really appeal either.

So I didn’t. I grabbed my camera, wrapped up as best I could, and made my way across campus to register in the hall. I was far from the first there, and there were plenty of people milling around, using the facilities, drinking coffee, and checking out the various stands in the halls. I bet any waterproofs for sale disappeared pdq! The registration desks were still pretty empty though, and having looked at the list of entries to get my rider number, I headed for ‘my’ desk. It’s possible that that look-up stage was unnecessary, as my pre-ride event pack never reached me, as often happens due to the nature of my role/registration but, since the website had had all the requisite event information on it, I didn’t much notice its absence 🙂

The nice lady behind the desk instructed me to fill in the usual details on the list and sign all liabilities away, whilst she dug out a plethora of things for me. One bike number, two cable ties, one map, two High5 gels, and one large foam backed velcro wrap around timing tag thing to be affixed to the headset, handlebars or top tube. Which was a new one on me – apparently it’s a triathlon thing. Which is as close as I’ll ever get to being a triathlete… 😉 Time to head back to the car, get the bike assembled and outside the car, and to crawl into the boot to get sorted, so as to keep out of the inclement weather for as long as possible. Btw, did you know that weather can also be clement? No-one ever says that though, do they?

It was pretty miserable out there, and not much better in here. As I faffed I realised I was losing feeling in my fingers. But I still didn’t know what to wear. The forecast was for improvement. And recently when things have been drier and brighter they’ve also been considerably warmer. I don’t like to overheat. I don’t like to freeze either. Oh dear… After much mental mulling over of things, I decided it’d be best to dress for the weather that there was now rather than the weather that there might be later on the basis that I would at least be right for some of the time rather than risk being wrong all of the time. Which I did, with the odd nod to options and flexibility. Which meant…normal socks, shoes, shoe covers. Winter longs. Short sleeve base layer, long sleeve jersey, winter jacket, and waterproof. Head tube, head band/ear cover. Winter gloves on, with summer gloves in the saddle bag. And all the usual crap in all the usual pockets. I emerged from the car (chrysalis?) in reverse butterfly stylee! And once all assembled and riding across the campus to the start, it now being a little past 8:00am, I was glad of all of it. Hey, I know it sounds like way too much, but some of you know how cold I can get…

I think a lot of people had probably bailed today. Certainly there was no massive queue to start, and when I joined the latest small group of riders gathering to be briefed, there clearly wasn’t going to be too much hanging around. The briefing guy, Andy Kirk I think, actually thanked us all for turning out! Thanks to the weather the roads were clearly going to be horrible, and we were admonished to be extra careful out there. The cut-off time for the long route had also been brought forward an hour to make sure that everyone could get around and back safely and properly, and we were warned not to do that long route, which involves a lot of steep climbing, unless we were proper on one. As if! Besides, having done the long route last year, and having no real intention of doing it today for a whole heap of reasons, this didn’t bother me too much 🙂

So…shall we go and ride bikes then? Oh go on then. Out on to currently quiet wet main roads and heading into Cirencester. My chain promptly came off. At which point I should mention that thanks to Chris’ expert tuition, I changed the cassette and chain on this bike yesterday. And although the indexing had seemed ok then, it turns out that it wasn’t now. This was by no means the only time the chain came off today. And changing gear was sometimes ok and sometimes…well…not! I was tempted to fiddle with it, but forbore, as I stood as much chance of making it worse as better. Besides, I was having enough problems with my mudguards which had to be readjusted a few times, and also got clogged up from time to time. What with stopping to change layers, eat, take pills, etc, there was going to be enough of that…the whole point is to be moving forward not standing still!

It’s hard to take photos when the weather is like this, so for a while you’re going to have to ride blind with me. The wind was mental, the roads were soaked, frequently flooded and covered in debris, mud and gravel. Riding was more of a case of gingerly picking your way through an obstacle course than looking at the scenery while making decent progress. At least it stopped constantly raining – soon there was more water coming up from the road than coming down on to it, which was an improvement.

I try not to talk to myself for the first 45 minutes as I know I haven’t warmed up yet and how I was feeling now was not how I was going to be feeling later. So I listened to my music and took it easy. As things started going up, my left knee started twingeing which reminded me that it’s done that for the last couple of rides, and which is not the old twinge, it’s a new one in a new location – ooh the novelty. So I spent some time fretting about that and if it was going to get worse…until it didn’t and at some point it went away. The same cannot be said for the usual internal pain but I had that mostly under control, although keeping it that way was, as I said, making me woozy from time to time. Novel…

There were soon ups, but I was doing ok up them. In fact I was preferring the ups to the rest of it. Up kept me warm, Up has been going well lately – no records beaten but feeling good, if that makes any sense – so oddly I like to keep going up things to see if that’s still the case. Which it was. Plodding along as ever, admiring whatever views there were, dodging potholes and crappy road surface, and walking riders, and generally getting up them happily. My serene crawler gear was engaged, and a little bit of me was giggling at those going past me huffing and puffing like the Flying Scotsman! OK, so they were getting up the hills faster than I was but…*grin*

Although I’d been grateful of the waterproof for a long time, enough of those ups and I was feeling a bit ‘boil in the bag’. After a down that would have been a lot of fun in other circumstances, and the rude interruption of crossing a main road at its bottom, I took a quick break about an hour in, in some pretty Cotswold stone village, to stash the waterproof, eat some flapjack, and take the odd photo. Just as well I ate then, as just down the road was what turned out to be the first timed stage – up a hill of course. Ha, ha, ha…as if that was of any relevance to little ole’ me! Still, it was kinda nice? At least I knew I was in for a decent climb. It was long, slow, with the odd almost hairpin, and kept going on when you went around the next corner… So my kind of hill 😀 I have no idea which one it was – Strava suggests it might be Lime Kiln or Hyde Hill…? But I enjoyed it whichever one it was, or even if it wasn’t.

My next break came around two hours in. Something was making a noise, and it wasn’t me, and it wasn’t my temperamental gears. As it turns out it was the front mudguard, something else that had been sort of repaired yesterday, and with all the bumps it had gotten itself misaligned. I also needed to take more painkillers, being a little overdue, and although I was feeling ok, letting them wear off more would probably be daft. They’re also cumulative and having had a couple of ok days last week, I had been playing catchup since then… I also swopped my winter gloves for my summer ones, because I was that bit warmer still, and because it’s easier to take photos with those on.

Fighting that wind had been hard work, which is an understatement. But now for a stage in the middle of the route, it would be more behind us than anything else. I wasn’t complaining! This middle section was also mostly flat, the roads were drying out, the sun was shining if not warming, and I was pretty much in my zone. As you could tell from the number of times I looked behind me as I hurtled along happily, to discover that I had APS (Acquired Peloton Syndrome) again. And not one of the f*ckers took their turn at the front! They either fell off of the back or enjoyed the rest and then hurtled off into the distance. Tut tut chaps, not very sporting…or even very sportiving? 😉

It might have been brighter, and it was that bit warmer, but that wind was still really chilly. I unzipped a bit occasionally, and when I did get a bit warm I just pushed up my sleeves so that my wrists/pulse points could meet that cold air, which pretty much had me covered. Onwards past the Cotswold Water Park, across the top, long straight and (blasphemous I know) just a little bit boring…which didn’t help dispel the woozy that cut in as the pills cut in.

Luckily this tedium would be broken up by the first food stop, which is also the only food stop on the medium route, at Performance Cycles in Poulton. It wasn’t yet as busy as the staff were busy worrying it was going to be, but the bike stands were still full (extra were being added) so I parked mine up against a wall, and headed into the courtyard with an empty bottle to top up. There were a few portable toilets with no queues – result! And then also a variety of food and drink on offer, so I could fill up the bottle with water (I figured I’d add a Nuun tablet later if I needed to), and grab a few jelly babies. I know, I know, as ever I should probably have eaten more, but I wasn’t hungry! I didn’t hang around long, and headed back out for some more flat fun.

All good things must come to an end… Which in this case would mean saying goodbye to that helping hand, and turning to face it and be slapped in the face by it again instead. Oh man!!! Not only was it hard work, but it also so noisy! Every hedge, fence, coppice, or obstacle was a blessing. Was it better to be pushing into it head on, or to be being pushed sideways unexpectedly, and crabbing your way along? Tough call…! Still, even with that all going on, I didn’t really mind, because it was just so pretty out there 🙂 Wide open skies, blue cloud strewn skies, pretty villages… Actually the whole route was mostly pretty rather than stunning, but that’s The Cotswolds for you, and that’s more than ok 🙂

hill climb 2 behind

Of course there was more up to come, and the next section of ups included a second timed hill climb. Still wasted on me… 🙂 Having slogged up things I’d really earnt the downs…and it was galling to have to be so careful today. Just as well though as at the bottom of a couple of them were nasty cross road trenches that if you’d hit them at speed would have definitely pinch punctured you. As riders strewn left and right were sadly demonstrating… Luckily at that point there were other riders around me and I’d been forewarned by them. Which is just as well, as it turns out that my bike was minus pump today. I don’t know if it’s on the other bike, has been taken off when this bike got washed and not replaced, or has fallen off but…it certainly wasn’t where it should be! Which left me worrying about the inevitability of a visit from herself and, when I did hit the odd log or hidden pothole, with serious puncture paranoia. I had to stop and check the tyres a couple of times to reassure myself that I was imagining it! A couple of those trenches could definitely have used CAUTION signs – which the worst descents and junctions all had – as they really were unavoidable 🙁

not a selfie

Sometime in a valley somewhere, mid puncture check, I realised I was stood next to a pretty water fountain which, at closer inspection, turns out to be a crocodile. Or maybe an alligator. As I was immortalising it, a rider pulled up besides me and asked if I wanted my picture taken with it. Well… No, actually. But since you’ve offered and I’ve been drug up all polite n’ sh*t, I said yes, so you know, here I am. I suppose it makes a change from the usual en route selfies..

cirencester church finish line

See you later, alligator…time for more ups, more pretty towns, more chilly sunshine. I reached the route split, around 60 miles in, at 10 to cut off and a little bit of me was actually tempted to do it, since I really was having a pretty good day. But no – tempt ye not fate, enjoy the moment, don’t push it, etc… Sometimes it’s best not to carpe diem 😉 Another time. Going right would have meant an extra three hilly hours or so before I’d finished and today that wasn’t for me. So very soon I was back negotiating a much busier Cirencester, without my chain falling off this time. I’d go so far as to say that the worst part of today’s ride, by far, was the last mile of so up the dual carriage way back to the school. Holy crap it was busy! Sod the wind at this point, it was the traffic flying past, very fast and very close, that had me worried. It was properly actively scary, as was trying to get into the right hand lane through it to go right at the final roundabout. Luckily a few other riders were coming up behind me by then and they did the hard work, thank goodness for safety in numbers! It was quite a relief to get back to the school, back through campus and over the Finish line. My timing chip was reclaimed and I was presented with my goody bag containing a medal, various bits and bobs and, more importantly a Cadbury’s Creme Easter Egg 🙂

I pootled my way over to HQ again where lots of people were taking advantage of the free hot food (mostly pasta as far as I could tell) and hot drinks – courtesy of the arm bands that entitled them to such. I walked around the hall a bit, and discovered I could print out my time, which was kind of cool, even if the data recorded wasn’t 😉 I decided I wasn’t in the market for pasta, even had gluten-free been an option (I didn’t ask). Instead I opted for a cup of tea to take to drink outside in the sunshine. I wasn’t in any rush so, tea drunk, I ambled me and my bike back to the car to reverse the process started around 5 hours before. Back into the boot to get changed, chill out, load up, and head home again, complete with Orangina – the post-ride drink of queens 😀 It’s a bit short on caffeine…so it didn’t do much to keep me awake on the way home… But I made it. Cotswold Spring Classic done. Slow, but solid, and I felt good. And that’s what matters 🙂

goodie bag

Cycling time: 4:30
Distance: 63.1 miles
Avs: 14.0 mph

The Tour of Pembrokeshire 2016 Prologue

Right then, where was I? Well, certainly not riding the bike as much as I’d like to be. It finally got cold for a bit there, so the risk of ice was rather a deterrent. And there’s been other rubbish weather, and other factors. Not the least of which being that I’d ended up with my head stuck in that place where you’re convinced you’re just crap at the whole riding thing. Again.

So I was somewhat apprehensive about dragging my arse all the way over to Newport to do this year’s Tour of Pembrokeshire Prologue on Friday 22nd January. That’s the Newport in Pembrokeshire 3.5 hours away, not the one just over the water by the way. Not only is it a bl**dy long drive, it’s also seriously hilly over there, my form had been rubbish, the weather had been horrible and the forecast was dubious… Let’s face it, it did not look like being a whole heap of fun!

I went anyway. It’s what I do. I got up at stupid o-clock, in the pitch black and went west. A longer than planned drive there, through Storm Whatever, in torrential rain and scary winds, did not perk me up any. Apparently my little car can swim! Negotiating my first proper flood ever, I over-did the speed, under-estimated the bow wave, and very briefly had water over the bonnet…oops! I made it through, but after all of that, I was seriously wondering if I would be riding the bike at all. Maybe I could just turn up, partake of the sociable elements of the event, and come home again…?

However as I got much closer to my final destination the weather started to clear, finally ending up behind me, and Pembrokeshire started to look much more attractive. Day had arrived, the skies had cleared, and by the time I arrived at “restaurant with rooms” Llys Meddyg, which was both HQ for the event and my home for the night, it was bright, dry, and rather surprisingly considering the freezing temperatures early in the week – it was warm! Well, by comparison anyway. How does 14°C sound? Sounds good, right? 🙂

Although I was staying at the hotel, its car park was chokka, there was, as you might say, no room at the inn. I blocked a whole heap of people in, unloaded the car into the lobby, and then parked up across the road and got the bike sorted. My recently fitted mudguards had survived the journey, and I managed to get the front wheel back on and all chafe free fairly easily. Leaving the bike outside the hotel I was allowed to get into my room earlier than usual check in and so could faff a bit. Having travelled down in kit there wasn’t too much to do, but considering how warm it was, I decided the base layer had to come off as I was baking already! Back downstairs riders were gathering, milling around, drinking coffee and generally getting in each other’s way going to and fro. I signed the relevant sheet of paper and picked up my emergency map, but passed on the coffee. Well, there wasn’t going to be a coffee stop en route and I didn’t want to need one, if you see what I mean! 😉

comparing Van Nicholas

The time came for us all to gather outside rather than in. There were around 40 of us, about to be split into three groups on two routes. The longer route – c. 54 miles – would have a faster group and a slower group. The shorter route – c. 24 miles – would be just one group. Shorter, slower, sociable. As you’ll have gathered by now, my PMA was pretty much AWOL, so it was definitely going to be the latter group for me! Even with the sun shining, and the unseasonable warmth I decided I’d be better off taking it easy and enjoying it, than risking the longer route. I know 24 miles is nothing, and sounds pathetic. I know 54 miles really isn’t that far either. However, as I mentioned earlier, Pembrokeshire is NOT flat. Which is by way of being a serious understatement. I’ve done the Tour proper a few times, and the Prologue a couple, and I know that 54 miles around here is easily equivalent to 100 miles somewhere flat! So…discretion, valour, limits, etc…

Joshua Fiddy's briefing

Time for a briefing from Joshua Fiddy, one of the Tour of Pembrokeshire organisers, who welcomed everyone and gave us an introduction to the ride. Each group would have two of the team with them which, in our case, would include Peter, previously chief organiser of the Tour of Pembrokeshire. There would be, and was, a support vehicle out en route with us in case of punctures, mechanicals or other problems, staffed by staff from Pembrokeshire bikes in Narbeth. All very supportive, all very sportive 😉

We were set off in shifts. Short slow, slow long, fast long; so as to keep the groups all a bit closer together overall than would happen otherwise. Off we went into the as gorgeous as ever Pembrokeshire countryside. It was just so lovely to be cycling somewhere different, and to be feeling warm! Dry overhead, if not under wheel. After the first climb I realised I was also feeling relatively on form, and not only was I not getting left behind I was actually near the front of our group and feeling pretty good. ‘Rah!

Being familiar with the general route, I knew roughly what I was in for for a while at least, and settled into it. In no particular order… The hairpins and the ensuing slog upwards at Moylegrove went up and on for just as long as ever, although it didn’t feel like quite as much hard work as sometimes. The wiggly descent down to the sea, with stunning views, made my spirits lift and my face smile, as usual. A descent that quite a few people missed as the left turn for that particular diversion came amidst another descent and what with the groups getting spread out and somewhat muddled up, well..if you didn’t know the turning was there…you just went flying past. I’m glad I didn’t 🙂 The descent to Poppit Sands was much fun, and I still think it’s an adorable name for a place, don’t you poppet? All in all, even with all the ups, I was having a good time 🙂

Poppit Sands

It has to be said that, as you may have gathered, the groups did not stay together. What with missed turns, varying abilities, and the odd bit of getting lost even when with a leader, things went a bit to pot. One such error led to us going up a most impressive, and new to me, hill out of St Dogmaels, which was steep and long and, very very oddly, which I loved! I didn’t want to turn around and go back and see if we’d gone the wrong way. I just wanted to keep going on up it and see if it was doable. Hello crawler gear 🙂 And it was totally doable, and I totally did it, and once t’were done, there turned out to be just three of us left when we gathered at the top! The support vehicle stopped to chat briefly, and assured us we were on track…which would only turn out to prove that they were a little lost too! Still, the other lady in our three knew the area, I soon recognised some familiar tarmac, and with her help and some guess work we were back on track in no time. Bae_hawk_t1_xx245_inflight_arp

And thus it remained for the remainder of the ride. Three of us, with a vague idea of where we were, a map that turned out to be barely legible and therefore not a lot of use, and a lady who knew better, and who, come hell or high water or, in one case another massive flood that we had to ride through, would get us back to base. Which she did. And even somewhat lost, and slogging back into a head wind, it was still lovely. Warm, sunny, chatty… There were two fighter trainer planes, Hawks I think, hurtling around the sky Top Gun style, making a tremendous noise and (I reckon) having even more fun than I was. Yet another reason for me to *grin*.

Some more ups, some more downs, and then we were back on the swoopy main road to Newport, and I let rip for a little while, having been taking it easy all morning, just for the fun of it…I do like to hurtle sometimes 🙂 It was a ride that did wonders to revive my PMA and unexpectedly was just what I needed. It was so nice to be enjoyably reminded that I can ride a bike, I can go up hills, and that riding a bike is fun 🙂

We three, we happy three, were the first back to Llys Meddg, unsurprisingly. With our lunch not due until mid afternoon, at 3pm, this left me with plenty of time to stash the bike away, have a lovely long shower, and chill out in lazy be-robed fashion in my room for a while. Bliss 🙂 By the time 3pm rolled around, a lot more of us were back, but by no means all, and there was a steady drip feed of returning riders as the afternoon progressed. Lunch turned out to be, in Peter’s judgement at least, the “best shepherd’s pie he’s ever eaten”. I don’t know if I’d go that far, but then I’m no shepherd’s pie connoisseur. It was pretty good though, and the sticky toffee pudding with cream afterwards was more than pretty good, it was fantastic! Presumably that’s why it’s an award-winning restaurant? I’m not sure I’d entirely earned such gratuitous calorific intake, but hey, it would have been rude not to…

There was a lot of the usual cycling banter over food, and drinks afterwards, and gradually riders peeled away one by one to head for homes. I on the other hand was staying over, so Peter and I took a trip to see the new venue for the 2016 Tour of Pembrokeshire, at Crug Glas, a little way out of St David’s. As we left, the last of the riders was just rolling in… Anyway, back to the new venue. Not only is this a (having stayed there before) very superior boutique country house hotel in scenic grounds, but it now has a new purpose built/converted barn affair, for weddings, events, and as it turns out, sportives. It’s very nice, and very swish. The new venue means that everything can now be all in one place – free parking, registration, start/finish, food afterwards…the works, which has to be an improvement. There’s even a bar…

And that’s not the only change to the event. The three routes – 50, 75 & 100 miles – have been tweaked for 2016, to make them flow better apparently which, having done the Tour several times before, I’m quite excited about, because when I’m back there in April, I’ll get to try them out and discover some new roads. Not that this will make 100 miles, and over 10,000 feet of climbing, any the easier mind. But after the Prologue, I can honestly say I’m looking forward to it, even though it’s gonna hurt! I have been quoted in various places as saying that the Tour of Pembrokeshire is a “must-do event” and I really do think it is. Brilliantly well organised, stunning scenery, and a range of challenging routes. What more do you want? See you on April 23rd. Go on, sign up, you know you want to 🙂

Cycling time: 2:00
Distance: 23.2 miles
Avs: 11.6 miles
ODO: 17830 miles

Wiggle Bitter Beast 2015

Right then. Time for the final sportive of the season – the Wiggle Bitter Beast Sportive. Which I’d really been looking forward to, oddly, because it’s a part of the world I really like, and cycling around the Jurassic Coast seemed like a pretty good way to round off the season. However as the weekend drew near, so did Storm Barney and although it was due to have blown over by then, and yes I did do that on purpose, there were still some pretty impressive winds due to be blowing around on the day.

Hm. I hate wind. Which I’m sure I’ve mentioned before. And with 40-50mph winds it’s not just that I don’t like them, they can actually be dangerous. But I wanted to do it. But 2 hours is a long way to go to then be miserable for 70 miles. But I hate bailing. And then my work threw an extra spanner in the works. Having been doing the social media for the Cairo-Cape Town world record bike race attempt for the previous few weeks, it turned out that the team were now due to arrive in Cape Town, and break that record, somewhere around 4-5pm on that Sunday. Their time. Which would be 2-3pm our time. And I really needed to be home or at the very least on-line for that, to keep the world updated, follow them in, and spread the word afterwards. Quite important really. No point doing the job and then missing that bit!

To cut a long and clearly not that exciting story short, after a little encouragement from others, I made a decision. I’d do it. I’d get up at stupid o’clock. Drive to Bovington Tank Museum. Do the shorter 40 mile route. Drive back, and be home in time to get to work. OK, so that all seems like a bit much to just do 40 miles but, as I said, I hate bailing, I wanted to do it, and more than that, since I’d been given a place so as to review it, I really felt like I should do that. Yep, I’m still pretty conscientious 🙂

Which brings me to HQ, at Bovington Tank Museum, on a very windy, chilly, grey and slightly damp Sunday morning. I was amongst the first arriving, having aimed to be so, with my usual “sooner started, sooner finished” thing going on, and was marshalled to park in the museum car park. I was sort of midway between the start line and the main museum building, neither of which were far away. Time to register before faffing then. Which I quite enjoyed. Well, registering for a sportive doesn’t usually involve quite so many tanks, and it was quite nice to get a peek at them all without having to pay. As eldest has just done his EPQ on how tanks developed as a result of and through the course of World War II, it turns out I’ve recently had quite a lot to do with tanks, and having seen the place for myself now, we’ll definitely be going back next year to pay to visit it properly. Tanks are cool, right? 🙂

Not only did I get to look at tanks, but registration was also inside, warm, dry, and had plenty of facilities. And it was also easy. Sign up, get a map, bike number, three cable ties, and the essential helmet timing chip. No queue. Unlike the Gents. But not the Ladies. Result 🙂 There’s always a perverse pleasure to be be taken from walking past their queue… Schadenfreude?

All that being done, t’were time to get back to the car, layer up, load the bike up, and head for the Start line. Being amongst the first at a smallish event where I imagine the no-show rate was fairly high too, thanks again to Barney, there were only a few of us waiting to be briefed, so it didn’t take long, and all of five minutes later I was off.

To be fair, although yes, it was bl**dy windy out there, it wasn’t quite as bad as I’d worried it might be. We were starting in the top and middle of a loop so…it goes something like this. Out into the wind for a bit. Down with side winds. Along with the wind behind. Up with side winds. Back into the wind to the Finish. Well, ish. What with there being quite a lot of trees around, there was more shelter than I was expecting. Still, it was bl**dy hard work quite a lot of the time. I have to say I wasn’t really feeling it. I’d definitely felt better on the bike. As Alan might put it, I didn’t have any zing. But since I knew I only had 40 miles to do, it wasn’t really a problem and my PMA remained relatively intact.

At least while slogging along there were thatched cottages and churches and villages and things to look at. And colourful autumn leaves. Well ok, a lot of them were on the road rather than on the trees, but hey, they were still pretty. Quite a lot of the land around there is military owned and not developed, and a lot of it also seems to be forestry, which keeps it feeling lovely and peaceful and rural. There are tank tracks, tank ranges, and military camps all over the place, all of which made the Tank Museum the perfectly logical HQ I think. The military land also came complete with red flags flying, warning that today trespassing on that land would be even less of a good idea than usual 😉

I’m was pleased to discover that there wasn’t too much climbing involved to make life even harder. I know there are some nasty hills around there, but every time we got near one of those that I vaguely remember, with my heart sinking, we’d end up not going up it and going in a different direction. This is not to say it was completely flat though, there were some ups, even the odd steepish one. The worst climb I think was the long drag down south, up to the coast. It went on for miles. Literally; it didn’t just feel like it did! Still if you’re going to get views, you have to go up, right? Sometimes up there you could even see the sea! OK, so I didn’t get to be by the beach this time around, but the sight of the sun breaking through the clouds and over the sea, if not over me, was well worth it. And after however long slogging up there, the lovely descent into West Lulworth, which I realised was coming about half way up the hill, was a joy 🙂

West Lulworth, about 26 miles in, was also where the food stop was. Marshalls were trying to slow arriving riders down, and there was a degree of chaos with riders deciding what to do, going in, coming out… Since I was feeling fine, and only doing the short route, I decided I really didn’t need to waste time, or intake food/drink (I travelled equipped as ever), so I just wiggled around them all and kept going. It being a Wiggle event I imagine it was as well stocked as ever though, they’ve had enough experience by now!

What goes down must go up sadly, and it was quite a long steepish climb back up from there. However this I knew, having done it before, which always makes up easier to deal with, and I just engaged crawler gear and got on with it. The wind was now essentially behind me and I won’t pretend it didn’t help push me up there a bit too. Sometimes wind is ok 😉 Having saluted the gate guardian tanks at Lulworth Camp near the top, and put the climb likewise behind me, the wind was more than ok for a while after that too. Wheee…..! Who’s going to turn down a few miles of sort of down/flat with a storm behind you? Not me 🙂

Time for the route split then. On another day I’d have loved to do the long route. Having looked at it beforehand I had noticed however that it didn’t include my favourite road here – the long climb up the coast past the tank target ranges, and I had half considered doing it anyway just for fun. It would have been the more logical way to go for the long route too…so I had been a bit bemused as to why it wasn’t en route…but the big red flags, and a road closed sign, explained why it wasn’t included. It also meant that I wasn’t going to be doing it for fun today either. Ah well, maybe another time? Waving a slightly regretful farewell to the road ahead, where Corfe Castle and Swanage beckoned, I took the left turn, turned tail, and headed back.

The return leg wasn’t quite so much fun, putting me gradually back into the wind. There were some interesting wiggles to get around main roads and junctions, and after hurtling off one big roundabout to get away from the traffic I missed the “turn right almost instantly” sign and nearly ended up in a military camp…though I’m thinking the armed guard and massive security gate might have prevented that from actually happening! The small bit of cycle path not long after, which would normally annoy me, took in a very pretty bridge, river, and small country pile, which placated me nicely 😉 Back to the road, and not so long after that I was being welcomed back to HQ by big tanks, and riding under the Finish arch.

After owning up to my Short route choice, I was presented with various goodies and a Wiggle Finishers t-shirt. I caused some consternation by asking for it in Large. “What, really?” Which I cleared up by explaining it would end up on eldest not me. At least they didn’t just look at me and go “yeah, no kidding” 😉 *grin*. And there you have it; Wiggle Bitter Beast done. And, as it turns out, even though it felt like hard work, and not stopping probably helped, I got me a Gold time! Woohoo! I’ve added it to my list of events to go back and do next year, to do the long route – but there’ll be no gold for that I bet 😉

I took myself back to the car for a quick change, and a quick trip to HQ to powder my nose, and then the not so quick 2 hour drive back home. I didn’t have time to hang around and besides, I have a new sportive tactic now too – pre-load the car with fizzy orange so I’ve always got some to drink afterwards, so I didn’t need to spend time finding some. Remind me about that next season? 🙂

You’ll be pleased to hear I got back home in time. As did the CAROCAP team, albeit a few hours later than planned – the wind did for them too! They did what they planned to do, I did what I planned to. I got a ride in, I (finally!) reviewed it, and I was home in time to spend the rest of the afternoon/evening sat on the sofa, on Facebook and Twitter, live posting the team in and playing a very tiny part in their amazing record. They cycled from Cairo to Cape Town in 38 days + some hours, beating the previous record by around 3 days. Which puts 40 miles around the Jurassic Coast well and truly into perspective, doesn’t it? *grin*.

Cycling time: 2:37
Distance: 38.6 miles
Avg: 14.7 mph
ODO: 11642.7 miles

Evans Ride It Wiltshire Downs 2015

Me oh my, I am such a long way behind. But there’s been so much going on! Riding, working, Dad’s birthday, life…what can I say?

A lot of the two weeks prior to this sportive was spent trying to get my knee better. Resting more, riding less. Though probably not quite enough of one and too much of the other. But hey, I was trying…!

Since the Welsh Raider, when things went a little pear shaped, I’d done a flat easy run with Alan, a flat short loop on my own, another easy run with the ever-patient Alan, and a nice seaside loop with, unsurprisingly, Alan again. And slowly things had been getting better. Riding was not pain free but it was improving, and the time required to recover off the bike had been coming down.

Cycling time: 6:32
Distance: 99.2 miles

All of which means it was time for another sportive. The Evans Ride It Wiltshire Downs, to be precise. It’s fairly local, which means a shorter drive and more time in bed. And coming as it did, the day after the clocks went back, that means another hour in bed, and daylight to drive in. Very handy! Even better, the forecast was good, and that drive took place in autumn sunshine, something you wouldn’t have predicted considering that it spent all Saturday p*ssing it down…!

HQ was at Wiltshire College, Lacock, at the end of a long, muddy, leaf covered drive, which would turn out to be pretty typical of all the roads for the day. It may have been dry overhead, but not under wheel! I parked up in a muddy gravel carpark a little way from registration and decided that I’d get sorted and then register rather than to-ing and fro-ing. It being October, even with the sun shining, it was pretty darned cold, somewhere around 6°C, so it was just a case of putting on all the layers I’d brought with me, loading up the bike and my pockets, and heading off. There were toilets in a changing room block opposite where the gentlemen were queuing and where I didn’t have to, and as it turns out, there were also more inside by registration. I registered, and the lady stuck my timing sticker on the right hand side of my helmet which was unusual, it’s usually t’other side. No bike number, so presumably no photography either, a map, and a High5 race day pack, and I was done. Since I had no intention of returning to the car to stash anything, I plundered the pack for the useful and discarded the rest.

Back outside, and the queue for the start was stretching a long way back, which was a bit disheartening, with the thought of standing around in the cold for ages not appealing. Still, it turned out not to be too bad in the sunshine, and the other riders around were chatty and sociable and as riders were being let away in fairly big groups, it wasn’t long until we were the next group, with me right at the front of it. No pressure then! After the usual rider briefing, a demo of the black on pink arrows, again novel, and a reminder that this was all supposed to be fun, we were off on our way.

Wiltshire College doesn’t half like its speed bumps! I’m not sure when we stopped being on the estate, presumably when they finally ended! Somewhat oddly, I seemed to have left my group pretty much behind me, so it felt like it was just me heading out into the Wiltshire countryside. My camera had somehow run out of batteries, so there’s not a lot of photographic evidence of my day sadly…which is a shame because it was absolutely beautiful out there. Glorious in fact. I’ve cycled around this area before, most notably on the White Horse Challenge, but a lot of this route was completely unfamiliar to me, and I’ve never seen the Downs stretched out around me like that before. Stunning 🙂

Having got my layers spot on, after the initial chill had worn off and I’d warmed up, so about an hour then, I was pretty happy out there. There were a few ups, but nothing too terrible, and most of it seemed to be being fairly flat or rolling. So, on to mental meanderings and route decisions to mull over. There were a lot of options, and route splits came one after the other – no front loading this time. Would it be the Fun route at 15 miles? Nah, don’t be daft. Ok then, how about the Short at 34 miles, the Medium at 63 miles, or the Long at 80 miles? Hm… No rush to decide though. The first food stop came at 28 miles in, in a pub car park, where the two outdoor toilets were proving woefully inadequate for the number of people wanting to use them. I duly queued, and then after grabbing some jelly beans, and taking the odd photo with my phone, headed off again. The next route split came shortly afterwards, but even though I reckon there were at least three things wrong with me, because I’m lucky like that, I still reckoned the Short route would be too short.

I did decide however that, although the longest route appealed, and let’s face it, it was a beautiful day to be out there, it would be unwise to push it. I reckoned I could manage the 60 without making things too much worse, whereas with the 80, with the bigger climbs in the extra miles, I might set my knee’s recovery back quite a way, which seemed like a daft idea. So when the next split came along shortly afterwards, I took it. Which meant that I was half done already and on the homewards stretch. A stretch that took me through more beautiful countryside but back on to more familiar turf. Not that I’m complaining, I love cycling through Avebury 🙂 The lack of novelty did make it feel slightly like harder work though somehow, less to distract the brain from the effort being put in? I guess I was also getting tireder, I’m fairly sure I hadn’t eaten enough, (nothing new there then), and being ill does have a habit of taking it out of you even if you are doing a very good job of ignoring that 😉 Still the scenery continued to keep my spirits up far enough. Multi-coloured autumn leaves, close cropped fields still golden in the sunshine, blue skies stretching for miles… Sorry, since I’m short on photos I thought I’d try poetic words instead 😉

Towards the end there was a long draggy staged up that went on for a couple of miles. Hardish work but my kind of climb, and man, the descent afterwards was way more than worth it! OK, so there were “Caution” signs and there were other riders who were gingerly braking their way down, but I could see all the way down, it wasn’t very bendy, and there wasn’t any traffic coming so….yep, I was the loon hurtling down on the right with a massive grin on my face 😉 A couple of miles after that and I was back negotiating speed bumps, and then crossing the finish line, where I was given another High5 taster pack. Job done 🙂 There were lots of happy riders milling around in the sunshine and eating the hot food on sale. I took a break on a step with a can of fizzy lemon, before making my way back to the car.

Cycling time: 4:04
Distance: 62.2 miles
Avg: 15.3 mph
ODO: 11487.7 miles

High5 taster pack

I may not have done the event justice, but I’d definitely do it again. In fact I actively want to. The route is lovely, the scenery is stunning, and it’s not too challenging – so it was perfect for this time of year. Maybe next year I’ll get to do the long route 🙂

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 😀

Bristol Belter 2015

So that was “summer”. Hm. It would appear to be September already. The mob are back at school. So, typically, the weather last week was pretty good, if not that warm. I rode up hills with Alan, and went for coffee with George. But I didn’t have much to do last weekend, other than doing my civic duty opening the Somerset Showcase on Saturday. An weekend devoid of riding, people, things to do, with a reasonable weather forecast. Sad face, etc…

Cycling time: 4:12
Distance: 61.1 miles
ODO: 10919.0 miles

Hello Thursday night. A meeting and a few drinks later. A sofa and a laptop. Tipsy internet shopping? No. Well, ok, yes, actually I did do that. A girl can never have enough frocks, right? But I also pinged off an email and got me a press place to do the Bristol Belter on Sunday *grin*. With nothing better to do I might as well be riding the bike, or maybe riding the bike is better than doing nothing.

So, civic duties done on Saturday, I cooked myself scallops and trout for tea, thanks to the Farmers’ Market part of the day, and got an early night. I even managed to sleep better than usual, which made the early alarm call somewhat less objectionable than usual. Though it’s still not exactly pleasant to wake up in the dark…daylight, daylight, wherefore wert thou? But when it did make an appearance it was clear, and bright, and full of promise. It was also blinding as I drove into the sunrise all the way to HQ at The Fry Club in Keynsham, which made driving interesting!

The car park wasn’t large, and it was still fairly empty. Not a lot of riders expected? It was probably more due to the way the event is/was structured. The Belter has three routes. Short – c.44 miles. Medium – c.63 miles. Long – c.100 miles. Both the Short and Medium routes head south to the Mendips. But the Long route starts with a 37 mile loop around the Cotswolds back to HQ before doing the Medium’s 63 miles. So only the long route riders were the ones daft enough to get there for the 7:00am start, what with that first hour’s start slot being reserved for Long Belters. The other routes got a lie-in – lucky s*ds 😉

So HQ was sparsely populated. Having faffed in the freezing sunshine and put on all the layers I had with me, there were no queues for anything – neither registration, the toilets, or to leave. Riders were leaving as and when they were ready, so I was one of just three when my ‘group’ was briefed and let go at around 7:30am. Bye bye HQ, and very shortly bye bye fingers, bye bye feet! Yes it was sunny, yes there wasn’t much wind. But me oh my, it was cold!

It was odd out there. It was very early. The sun was, though rising, still very low, and casting exceedingly long shadows. It was either very bright or very dark. Chiaroscuro. After a stretch of cycle path, the roads were deathly quiet. As was the world really. It all felt a bit unreal, or maybe even surreal. Like I was just aimlessly cycling around waiting for the day to actually begin and it hadn’t yet. It was also a bit worrying. What with the sun being so low and in front of me it would be blinding any motorists coming up behind me…so it’s a good thing the residents of the Cotswolds hadn’t really woken up yet. Furthermore, what with the signs for the long route being black arrows on a red background, they really didn’t stand out, and spotting them in the shadows was a bit tricky, so I was worried I’d miss one and get lost…

It was very pretty out there though. And, as I’ve mentioned, very very cold. I was almost grateful for the fact that, in dribs and drabs and then one biggish hill, we were going up in the world, as it at least generated some internal heat! Up on the top there, there were views over to the Severn Bridges and beyond, fields of gold with straw bales dotted around, blue skies, green hedges, and even a hot air balloon in the distance. All very idyllic. As was the cutesy chocolate box village of Castle Combe which the route then went down to, and which marked the turning point of this loop. What could have been a nice descent wasn’t as, being in a wood, it was just too dark to see the dodgy road surface. Still like I said, the village was pretty, and the climbing back out again wasn’t too bad. Time to head back to HQ, with the sun behind me and no longer in my eyes, making it even easier to enjoy the scenery.

In an ideal world I’d have warmed up by now and, being back at HQ which was also serving as a food stop, I could have stashed my superfluous layers in the car. Sadly I still couldn’t feel my feet so that wasn’t going to happen! I did nip to the toilet and grab a bit of flapjack before heading off for the Mendips loop though; this time following white arrows on red which stood out a bit more.

There turned out to be rather more climbing today than I’d expected. And it wasn’t obvious either, various and numerous climbs lurked amongst the country lanes and under trees. Deceptive. And slow. Scenic though, I even got to ride under a viaduct! I gave in to the inevitable and accepted that today’s ride was going to take me a long time, and that I should stop fretting about it. Well, I really didn’t have anything better to be doing, and I was riding my bike in the sunshine so…time to sit back, enjoy, chill out, etc. Actually, less of the chilling, things were finally starting to get warmer. At 11:17am precisely I realised I could feel my feet again, which cheered me up no end! 🙂

I was heading for the very familiar but in the meantime all the back country lanes had me feeling a bit in the middle of nowhere, and a bit lost, and at one point actually lost. Somewhere before Chew Magna I climbed up a gritty muddy hill to a t-junction and…nowt. No sign. Hm. So I went back down the hill to find a few other riders riding up it. So I went back up with them. More climbing is good, right? Still no sign at the top though. Cue much consulting of maps and gadgets, before resorting to some semi-educated guessing! We went left and hoped for the best. Which worked. Judging by how the next sign we saw was displayed we should have been approaching it from a different direction, but hey, at least we were back on the route.

From here on in I was going to be on home territory for a while so although I’d lost confidence in the signage somewhat, I knew I couldn’t actually get lost, which was nice. After a steepish climb up to Hinton Blewitt, and some more wiggling, I popped out on the road to Litton and prepared myself for the long climb from Chewton Mendip to the top of the Mendips. Which, at the top of the nicer way up there, up the delightfully named Torhole Bottom, is where the next food stop was. Not that there was much food left. It was staffed by army cadets of some sort. Rather more of them than you’d have thought necessary, who were larking about rather more than necessary. One of them topped up my water bottle though, whilst another counted the remaining bananas. All 18 of them. Make that 17 after I’d grabbed one and eaten half, having decided to take a seat for a few minutes in the sun and take a little time out, in keeping with the enjoying it spirit.

Right then. Time to head for Priddy, and the descent to Westbury. Which I do like. Especially on my own. Here however signage once again let me down. Apparently I missed a sign to turn left on the way down. Didn’t even see it. Possibly because I was trying to avoid a u-turning MX5 at the time, or because at the speed I go down there at I need to be concentrating on the road surface ahead.. Either way, I missed it. So having had much fun flying downhill, I ended up at the bottom, at the junction with the Wells road, with no signs to be seen. Well more climbing may be good, but I certainly wasn’t going to climb all the way back up that particular hill just to see where I’d gone wrong – it’s a killer hill! But I wasn’t lost per se, as I knew exactly where I was, I just wasn’t where I was supposed to be. Having seen some of the route signs the day before when out and about, I knew where I could pick it up again, so rather than try and figure out where the route had actually gone, I cut across to Cocklake instead. Ok, so I missed out a few miles looping through Easton and Theale and Wedmore, but I didn’t miss any hills out, and I cycle through there at least once a week, so I figured I wasn’t missing out on anything much.

Back on route, en route to Cheddar Gorge then. Having made my short cut I had managed to get ahead a bit and actually found myself with quite a few other riders for a bit. Two of whom turned out to be Jon and Guy. Jon was actually on the ride, Guy was just along for some of the ride. I only realised it was him when I recognised his as the voice of the rider apologising to the driver of the car that he’d just rear-ended…*grin*. No harm done though. Guy was actually supposed to be on a recovery ride and keeping his heart rate down to whatever b.p.m. This didn’t stop either him or Jon from leaving me for dust up the Gorge as usual though! Ah well 🙂 I did actually overtake some riders in my turn, wiggling my way up beneath the cliffs and through the shadows. The Gorge was a tad busy, plenty of cars, riders, grockles and sheep that look like goats, but we all seemed to be getting on amicably enough, even around Horseshoe Bend which I always go up in the middle of the road. The cars behind me didn’t seem to mind today, and I waved them thankfully by once I was done. And soon Cheddar Gorge was done too, and I was back up on the top of the Mendips again, basking in the sunshine, and chatting to Guy and Jon who were at the third food stop here.

It’s good to talk, right? Especially as a lot of today’s riding was just me. Normally it’s not until later on a sportive that I end up on my own, after the shorter routes have headed for home and left me out there. This one works the other way around. There’s always fewer riders doing whatever long route it is, and having been set off the way we were, us few were pretty well spread out. And then later in the day on the other loop, all those shorter route riders were so far ahead that I never saw much of them either! This also means the food stops later in the ride have been pretty thoroughly ravaged. I think it might work out better the other way around – Mendips then Cotswolds?

Right then, time to get back to it. Having earnt a decent descent I was disappointed to be given the narrow wiggly gravely one to Compton Martin which was not at all fun. *sulk*. Still, at least I was on the home stretch now, and going pretty well, even if that home stretch did turn out to contain a couple of nasty hills, one around Nempnett Thrubwell and one really steep kicker at Norton Malreward which I was actually quite proud of myself for not walking up – it hurt! (By the way, have you noticed what cool place names we have here in Somerset?) That last final up also meant it was pretty much downhill from there for the last five miles or so back to HQ – always the best way for a sportive to end IMNSHO 😀

Finally my Bristol Belter was done, albeit a slighter shorter Belter than it should have been *grin*. I was rewarded for my efforts with a rather nice Bristol Belter mug – which is far more use than a medal and far more interesting than a water bottle. As it turns out, it was a very nice way to spend my Sunday after all 🙂

Cycling time: 6:49
Distance: 93.4 miles
Avg: 13.7 mph
ODO: 11012.4 miles

Severn Bridge Sportive 2015

here I come Bridge

I have a bit of a thing about cycling over the old Severn Crossing. I like it. A lot. And it’s a fair bet that a sportive called the “Severn Bridge Sportive” involves that, right? Bit of a no-brainer really. I also have a tendency to repeat sportives that I’ve enjoyed before. This one I did in 2013. In June. In glorious sunshine. This year’s edition was in August. On the Bank Holiday weekend. So guessing what the weather was going to be like was also a bit of a no-brainer…

Yep, I love waking up in the dark, after a truly disastrous night’s sleep, to the sound of rain on the conservatory roof, and the forecast of much more to come *sigh*. I came this close to rolling over and going back to sleep, but since I was due to be reviewing it my sense of obligation and my conscience kicked me up and out of bed. Man, I have to learn to get rid of those two pesky things! 😉

Which brings us, after a damp and dreary drive, to HQ at Castle Coombe Circuit. I was on the early side and was marshalled to park up at the nearer end of the parking, passing many walking riders heading off to register in the chilly rain. I wasn’t going to do that. I knew better. I knew that it’s further than you think. And I figured the best thing was to sit in the back of my car, faff, get sorted, and kill time so that I could ride to registration, use the facilities, and then not have to loiter around in the rain for too long before start time came. Moisture minimisation. So there I sat, peering out, watching riders walking to and fro’ while it rained, and rained, rained heavier, rained lighter, but always rained. Ah well, at least it was easy to decide on layers. S*d the gilet, it was definitely an armwarmers and waterproof day. Let’s face it, with the autumnal temperatures, boil-in-bag wasn’t likely to be an issue. Hey, on the upside, at least it wasn’t windy for a change!

Time passed, and finally it was time. I clambered out the back of the car, clambered on to the bike, and rode off to register. Luckily registration was indoors. Riders were sheltering wherever dry was, and there may even have been an element of huddling together for warmth! I signed in, got my number (322), ties, and helmet timing chip, and went back into the ‘orrible outdoors to fix them where they needed to be. Whilst waiting outside I bumped into Herbie and his Mrs, and we chatted for a while, friendly faces always being a good thing, before taking our places in the start line. I think we were in the second group away, but a bit far back in it so I couldn’t really hear the briefing – maybe a mic would have been useful – but I caught the odd salient point and saw the signs I would be following, before we were on our way.

The route starts with half a lap of the race circuit which, though smooth and flat and therefore probably lovely normally, seems to have decided drainage is not necessary and that standing water is a good thing. Water was coming down, coming up…and my ar*e was soaked even before we left the circuit. Ick! I’d meant to cycle with Herbie for a while but all that cold and wet going on meant I needed to get going on and warm up a bit so I left them behind and headed off. As we exited the circuit onto a muddy country lane, one poor sod was already fixing a puncture. I’m fairly sure that today, if that had happened to me, I’d just have walked back around the circuit, loaded the car up, and gone home!

Off we go then. There’s a distinct lack of photos today, mostly due to the weather. But also to the fact that we’ve all seen damp English country lanes before! What scenery there was en-route to the bridge would probably have looked lovely on a different day but today it just all seemed a little grey and dismal and uneventful. It’s amazing what a difference weather makes to a place, and when you’re busy looking down and watching where you’re riding, you’re not really looking at the view anyway.

So… It was a ride of four hours. One very wet one, one wet one, one mostly dry one, one wet one. Or maybe it was a ride of three parts. One ride out. One bridge aller et retour. One ride back.

Because today I did the short route. I like Welsh hills. I liked the long route when I did it before. But today 40 miles of wet Welsh hills just didn’t appeal. I can do them any time and, in fact, have already done that several times this year. So I rode a fairly flat 33 miles just to ride over the bridge, grab some yummy apple pie, ride back over the bridge, and ride 33 miles back again. Which made this a fairly easy, vaguely miserable, slightly boring ride. I know, I’m weird, how can riding a bike be boring? But without lots of up there isn’t lots of down. It’s just fairly constant pushing, slowed down by puddles, potholes, and mud! Maybe I should have done the extra forty mile hilly loop after all?!

But, and there’s a big but, it was totally worth it. Why? Because thanks to coinciding with the Severn Bridge Half Marathon and presumably some hefty behind the scenes negotiating, the old Severn Bridge was closed. Totally closed. As in the only traffic to be crossing it between 7:00am and 13:00pm was us. Cyclists. How cool is that?! Very, since you asked. How many people can say they’ve done that? Well, around 300 or so probably, depending how many no-shows there were, but still, bet you haven’t! It totally made my day :D.

You can’t blame an event for the weather though. This was not a bad event by any means, it just suffered from bad weather. There were a lot of positives. Good signage, all bar the odd bit when I’d been on my own for a while and was convinced I was lost and could have used a reminder. The marshals and staff were friendly and helpful. The food stop (used twice on the long route) was great, well supplied with hot drinks, savoury and sweet food (I mentioned the apple pie, right?), water and energy drink, and being in a community centre, it also had toilets.

Mind you, the short route – being essentially out there and back again – involved a little too much repeating for my liking, and the section around what I think was Yate on the way back in the rain involved far too many roundabouts, traffic, and traffic lights to slow me down when I was in push for home mode. And I did push. After a drier hour around the bridge, on the way back the rain came back. I’d had enough, and I wasn’t taking any prisoners – I was over-taking them all! Well, it was pretty flat 😉 Which would make it a great route for people who don’t like hills, who aren’t race snakes, who fancy a nice day out in the countryside, or for novices. The 100 mile route has more to challenge and more to see, and those hills in the middle would break up the flat out and back nicely. Maybe next year? 🙂

After 66 miles I was back on the soaking circuit again and sort of sprinting for the Finish arch, where I was soon collecting my goody bag, and then declining the free pasta. That done, I had a chat to Andy Cook who runs the event and who seemed remarkably sanguine given the weather that had happened to his event and no doubt cast somewhat of a pall over the Family Cycling Day element of the day. Still, it’s the English weather, what can you do? There were still various undeterred small people cycling around the track with their parents and clearly having fun doing so 🙂 Chatting done, and since I was soaked through and getting cold, it was time to head back to the car, reverse the faffing process, and go home. Back home, down the rainy motorway, with the heating on! Bye bye summer… 🙁

Cycling time: 4:11
Distance: 66.5 miles
Avg: 15.9 mph
ODO: 10857.9 miles

By the way the day did have another highlight. On the way back, as I closed in on another rider, and passed a farm on the left hand side, there frolicking on the drive, were two very cute small kittens. One of which ran off, while the other sat and watched, all black and white and wide-eyed as I passed. Aw, how adorable. It definitely made me smile. In fact, as I informed the somewhat bemused rider I was now passing, I think all sportives should include kittens 😉 *grin*.

Great Weston Ride 2015

I could tell you about the ride I did with Alan on Wednesday that didn’t go according to plan because rain stopped play. I could also tell you about the solitary seaside loop I did yesterday. But you don’t want to know about those. You want to know about the Great Weston Ride that I did last Sunday, right? Which is by way of being a rhetorical question, because I’m going to tell you about it regardless of your response. Every English woman must do her duty 😉

Right then. Welcome to the Great Weston Ride. My sixth I believe. And since it was also its sixth, that means I’ve done ’em all. It is by way of being a tradition, which has several elements to it, though not all of them were present this time around.

First of all, for starters, we, whoever we are, ride from our various homes to the start. This is usually Guy, sometimes Clayton, and always me. Sadly Guy was unable to join us this year, having worn himself out on yet another long audax the day before. When shall we three meet again? Next year maybe? So then there were two. Clayton and I met a little before 7:00am at Shute Shelve, as ever, and headed off, minus our usual guiding light…which probably explains why, in the absence of his commuting expertise, we managed to get somewhat lost and turn an 18 mile route into a 22 mile route. But hey, the roads were quiet, it was dry and mild, and we still got to where we had to be in time, mainly because that little before 7:00am had given us a little leeway!

And where did we have to be? Why Long Ashton Park & Ride of course. For the second element, the main course, the main event, the GWR itself. I think in previous years we’ve aimed to get there earlier, this time around it was already busy, full of riders and families and cars and bikes. Alan was due to meet us there, but as there was as yet no sign of him, we headed off to sign in. On my way I bumped into Andy and his mates James and Lee, who’d also done the Ride Like A Pro the day before, which was nice – always good to see a friendly face or three! The alphabetised queues for registration were clearly marked, but for some reason mine seemed to be the longest, and queuing took quite a while. Clayton had it much easier! As I stood there on my own, slowly shuffling forwards, one of the guys popped over to say that if I was riding on my own I was more than welcome to join them, though I seriously doubt I’d have been able to keep up with ’em. Luckily, thanks to the company I was already keeping, I didn’t need to find that out for sure! It was a very nice gesture though – thanks guys 🙂

Finally it was my turn at the front, and I was given my number, two (rather short) cable ties, and a card with contact details, told to help myself to free 9Bars, and sent on my way. I found my way back to Clayton, fiddled the number on to the bike, and joined the queue for the Ladies – which just goes to show that there were quite a lot of women riders for a change 🙂 By the time I emerged again we still hadn’t located Alan, who was failing to answer his ‘phone, but luckily I spotted him loitering with intent, and hailed him over. Voice like a parade ground sergeant me 😉 Right then, back to being three, if not the same three as usual, right?

Let’s make a little detour here. Although the GWR is, as we have established, a tradition, this year’s route could be different. I say could be, not would be, because although the usual 56 mile route remained, the organisers (hi Darren!) had added three optional little detours to it to add both miles and hills. I’d like to say I was dying to try them out, chomping at the bit, etc…but you know what? I’m essentially lazy *grin*. However if I wasn’t local and didn’t know all the extra bits already I probably would have done. Or not 😉 My real excuse du jour? Tradition is tradition, tradition is not to be messed with, and the traditional route is 56 miles 🙂

Right then. Route decided upon. Time to join the groups lining up for the start. The two motorcycle medics were watching on as Darren gave us our rider briefing, showed us the signage, and told us to be careful going down the hill after Priddy. After six years he can probably recite it in his sleep 😉 So, forewarned and forearmed, off we went. I know better than to hurtle off though, you always get instantly stopped by the traffic lights at the entrance and then another set after that before you get to head off through Long Ashton – and this year was no exception 🙂

Wasn’t I here yesterday? Ah yes, so I was. Déja vù! This time we may have been going a little slower though – it’s not a race, right? The road through Long Ashton rolls a bit, has lots of parked cars, and a seriously dubious road surface. However the section afterwards is lovely fast and flat, so we got to overtake a fair few, which is always fun. Which is also something that happened on and off all day. This is more of a charity ride than a sportive, there’s no timing, and there’s a whole range of riders out there to enjoy the day out, not just the usual race snakes and testosterone fuelled pelotons. Which apart from meaning I can overtake folk also means it’s got a really nice friendly atmosphere. People chat en passant, families wait by the side of the road to cheer on their rider(s); it’s all quite refreshing 🙂

Where to go from here? Through Barrow Gurney where we stopped briefly to stash layers and lost Clayton who was ahead and didn’t realise we were no longer behind him, and out t’other side. Then up to the traffic lights and then up, literally, the A38, briefly. Not briefly enough really as it’s a fast road, and the traffic using it desperately has to be somewhere else and has to go past you at speed to get there. OK, so we weren’t on it for long at all, distance wise, but the drag up made it take longer than it would have done otherwise, overtaking slower riders was tricky, and it was nice to turn left off it and head east through Winford. Admittedly this was also nice because I knew the next section, all bar a couple of little ups, was downhill and fun, and it was and it was 🙂

I appear to have forgotten to mention that despite the relative warmth and sunshine, it was still really windy out there. When isn’t it these days? And of course it was a headwind. *sigh*. This became even more apparently heading south across the valley and past Chew Valley Lake. Pretty yes, but pretty hard work! Somewhere around here we passed Clayton waiting by a gate, and stopped to pick him up – he’d thought he was following Alan the entire time, even though his ‘Alan’ had different kit and a different bike! 😉

Time to head for the big climb of the day. I’m not a fan of the stretch of the road going from Compton Martin to Blagdon. It’s more up than down, with a couple of nasty draggy ups, and that slow sort of big grain porridgy road surface. Having said that, I’ve definitely struggled more with it on other rides than I did today. Although we split up from time to time, going up inevitably, we re-grouped on the downs and flats, i.e. the bits I can do! 😉 Those weren’t the ups of the day though. Nah. Today’s big climb was Burrington Combe, not to be tackled however until we’d stopped at the water stop at the bottom and had a bit of a regroup and refresh first. I wasn’t in any rush to get up it, and when it came to it, I didn’t rush getting up it either – unlike Alan and Clayton who left me in their wakes so as to wait for me at the top. I still got to overtake some though, and I quite enjoyed pottering up there again. I might have been faster without the wind all day, and without the day before’s miles in my legs, but I was feeling ok, and that was fine by me 🙂

Big climb done. Time to play with the wind across the top of the Mendips, and have a bit of fun doing some speed. I like it up there, even today when it got a bit cloudy and drizzled briefly 🙂 I also like the descent to Westbury sub Mendip. Well, I usually do. I like it less when surrounded by lots of other riders who don’t know it as well as I do. It’s fairly steep, narrow in places, wiggly…and there’s often traffic of the motor vehicle variety going both up and down. Which it’s another good reason, if one were needed, why it was good that the earlier drizzle was only brief and didn’t turn into rain – it’s proper ‘oribble in the wet! I’ve been known to kick ass going down here on a good day, but not today. Today I actually practiced some restraint. Which is just as well as near the bottom on a narrow wiggly section, at speed, we had to squeak past a Land Rover coming the other way. There’s no way we’d have been able to stop…just as well we didn’t have to!

After a bit more restrained fun we reached the junction at the bottom where the marshal duly assisted us all across the main road when it was safe to do so. A bit more down brought us to Rodney Stoke where, later in the day, various fête type things were due to be happening and we’d been asked to roll through it in neutralised zone fashion. We were there well in advance of those but we still did as we were told, before heading across the flat back country lanes to Cocklake. We do what we’re told you know. We even stopped for traffic lights ‘n everything 😉

We were fairly motivated by now, because the infamous food stop is at Wedmore, just a couple of miles down the road. And it was just as good as ever. Free coffee/tea/squash, and with a large range of cakes on offer, as well as bacon rolls. Not free but not expensive either, and although I don’t do eating, Alan and Clayton do. A large slice of sticky chocolate cake and a generous bacon roll respectively, both of which were apparently lovely 🙂 The only fly in the ointment was the wasp that wouldn’t leave my squash alone! So I dumped both and headed to the school toilets, which always make me giggle because they’re ickle for ickle people *grin*.

We couldn’t stand around eating all day though. Time to get going, with 18 miles or so to go and no big hills. As we headed down the ‘mother-in-law’ road from Wedmore to Highbridge (so-called because it goes on and on…) the sun came properly back out again too. Well the sun should always shine at the seaside right? Which, with Highbridge, Burnham-on-Sea, and Weston-super-Mare ahead of us, is where the rest of the ride was. Burnham wasn’t as busy as usual which was a blessing. As we passed what passes for the pier, a large group of ladies and daughters applauded me. Yes, just me, I was a way back from the boys at this point trying to take photos. I think it was a female solidarity thing – and very smile inducing it was too 🙂 By now the wind, which had been more southerly than westerly, could have been expected to be behind us and helpful and blissful and….nah, don’t be daft…it had veered around to be properly westerly and no use to man nor beast! T’was ever the way…*grin*.

We stuck together for the last flat section, took turns at the front, and dragged our average speed up a bit while enjoying the sunshine. Past the 10 miles to go sign, the 5 miles to go…up the A38, through Uphill, and then we were on the final stretch down the main seafront to the Finish on the lawns there. There was a lovely reception awaiting us as we crossed the line, complete with applause and cowbells, and smiley faced girls handing out medals and food tokens. Told you it was friendly, right? Once again the Great Weston Ride was done 🙂

Cycling time: 3:42
Distance: 55.9 miles
Avg: 15.1 mph
ODO: 10493.3 miles

Time for some R’n’R then. Those food tokens entitled you to a free burger/sausage/falafel wrap from The Cowshed. But who eats first? Priorities…! Clayton disappeared like a shot towards the beer tent as I had a brief chat to Darren, and I joined him just in time to be presented with a pint of cold lager – bliss 🙂 Alan went off in search of their food, and I made some small boy’s day by giving him my token and thus a free burger. Positive karma has to be a good thing 🙂 We all sat on the lawn in the sun, played the debrief game, and drank that positively lovely lager, surrounded by lots of others doing the same. The boys had a couple of pints or three, I stuck to just 1 and 1/2 before we headed off for the ride home, even given considerable peer pressure!…

…which I possibly paid for. This was the final element, dessert presumably, aka riding back home again. Damn that tradition stuff! OK, so it was only 10 miles back for me, and actually this probably had more to do with two days’ riding in a row and not having eaten enough, but I felt properly and increasingly weird on the way back. I’m very glad it wasn’t any further! I was very pleased to get home, get off the bike, and spend some serious sofa time so as to get it together enough to have a shower. I know, girly lightweight 😉 Still, two lovely days out on the bike…there are definitely worse ways to spend a weekend 🙂