…I will not be riding my bike. This weekend is a prime example of plans not coming together. However, so far, things seem to be working out ok nonetheless.
To start with I was going to be cycling over, on my own, to see hubby’s folks with whom we have Sunday lunch plans. Then GB was going to hitch a ride for a bit, making it a more sociable affair. However he had to pull out for family reasons. Back to square one. Still a Sunday square though. But have you seen the weather forecast? Not exactly conducive to arriving exhilarated after a nice ride, more to turning up doing a stonking impression of a drowned rat. Last night I decided that discretion is the better part of valor, and however brave that might be, it would be more sensible to ride today. So I texted Simon to see if he was around, little thinking that he would be, based on past history. Shock! horror!, he was, and a new plan came together, which involved him, I, 50 miles, and some hill the other side of Bridgwater which we failed to make once before. I posted something to this effect on a certain social networking site, and before I knew it, we’d picked up another (2nd Cat) rider! *gulp*. All this by about 12:30am this morning, whilst consuming medicinal red wine. (It’s the wrong time of the month – so iron out, iron in I reckon!).
You would be forgiven for thinking that this might have made this morning rather hard work but, unusually, I managed what passes for a lie in in this house – yes – all the way to 8:30am – which left me postively well rested and refreshed. Well, something like that anyway. Suffice to say I wasn’t suffering any ill effects from the night before. Coffee and a pink pill ensured that I was properly awake, and that my knee, and stomach cramps, were placated.
I picked up Simon from his place in Cheddar at 10:30 am (how civilised is that?) and we met Mike at Sweet’s at 11:00am. I happily sat behind the two of them, music in one ear, as we headed off via Burtle to Edington, and from there across unfamiliar back roads to Bridgwater. I’d forgotten that it’s Carnival weekend, and so we had to negotiate the fair/market, which had closed off the road we needed. We picked our way through gingerly, on wheels, but only in the same way as you use a skate board – pushing with one foot. Which makes us no worse than your average pushchair, and a damn site more manoeuvrable. Well, judging by the behaviour of the locals, they’d cheerfully have formed a mob and lynched us for our audacity! Man, it was good to get out of there…
I followed blindly on, to busy trying to keep up to pay too much attention to the route. I was eventually led up into the Quantocks, up Enmore Hill which goes up for quite a long way for quite a long time. It was bearable, though might have been more so if Simon could have been persuaded to abandon me and let me get on with it (he couldn’t), so I did my best to keep the dribbling to a minimum and to get up with as little fuss as possible. Considerate of me n’est-ce-pas? Mike was found at the top nonchalantly awaiting our arrival, looking for all the world as if he’d been there for ages, even though he swears he suffered too… Well, if excuses are needed, my bike is 3x heavier than his (at least) and I’m probably 3x heavier than he is too! Whippet! *grin*.
The coffee stop shortly afterwards came as somewhat of a relief, especially as Simon promised me that was it for big hills for the day. We sat outside in the sun and drank coffee and talked cycling – unsurprisingly. After a while it was inevitably time to head off again. All downhill… To be fair, I didn’t enjoy the downs that we’d earnt all that much, as the roads were wet, greasy, and unfamiliar. Well, ok, some of them were fun :). Bridgwater, though negotiated in a different way, was equally hideous, as various eejots tried to run us off the road. I swear there was a palpable air of hostility radiating…and again, I was bl**dy pleased to get out of the place. In one piece too, which was somewhat of a miracle considering the efforts made to attempt to make it otherwise.
From there it was up the A38 as fast as possible, possible in escape mode, before coming back via Puriton, Woolavington, Mark and so on. However my knee, which had refrained from doing more than twingeing on the way out went big time on the way back. First of all there’s the pain. That’s quite distracting. Then when you try and take your mind off that and pay attention to what you’re doing, you realise that your breathing has gone all shallow and fast in response to it. The rest of your body has tensed up, so the shoulder and lower back start to hurt. And your performance (such as it was) goes to pot. I was a tad gutted as I’d hoped to do my share on the way back, what with it being mostly flat and the slight wind being in my favour, but it wasn’t to be. OK, I’m dreaming, it would never have happened as whenever I did get on the back of the pair of them, Mike just got faster, but I’d like to think I’d have tried! We stopped in Mark and I grabbed a pink pill, but it was definitely too little too late, and I limped home behind them up through the Allertons, down through Weare and up the A38 feeling a tad sorry for myself. Which is shame as by then the sun was shining, and we were a long way from Bridgwater – both things to be happy about *grin*.
Cycling time: 3:45:54
Distance: 60.95 miles
Avs: 16.1 mph
ODO: 6128 miles
Considering the market detour, and the whole pain thing, I think my average speed is fairly laudable. Keeping up with the pair of them was probably very good for me, and it was great to go somewhere different. I’m not even moaning about the hill – as I need to get better at those too (:P). It was a really good ride all told – thanks to Simon for the route, and to both of them for not going too fast and dropping me completely. It barely rained on us, the sun shone eventually, and it was a whole heap nicer than a ride tomorrow would have been! Tomorrow is definitely a gym day 🙂
Time to find that masseur and see if we can’t fix my knee… I can’t keep having to take pink pills to ride decent distances…