tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68591638621749457722024-03-02T09:29:53.638-08:00Ben Races BikesXC mountain bike racing and general cycling Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.comBlogger349125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-66705207576605206912024-02-17T10:09:00.000-08:002024-02-17T10:09:51.929-08:00Taking a break<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">In my previous post I talked about targeting the 4 hour category at the final round of the Brass Monkeys series. A few days later the reality of my current health sank in. Now isn't the time to be trying to stretch or push myself. I am currently totally exhausted as I try to recover my health. The stress of a race was actually the last thing I needed to put myself through. In the end the decision to miss the race was actually a really easy one to make. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">After a few weeks of trying, and failing, to get back to a decent training schedule I've stepped back. I'm riding when I feel I have the energy reserves, keeping outings short and local, taking care not to push myself. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Cycling has always been a form of therapy for me and how I relax. Now more than ever this is the focus of my rides. I've spent some money building the fully rigid hardtail back up. I enjoy the purity of this sort of riding and the rigid fork slows the pace so I just enjoy the countryside and the company. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">After years of pushing myself to hit training targets and riding every day it hasn't always been easy to sit back and let the days go past without getting in the saddle. In the long run I know it is the best route to recovery.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0yzpru3dhfEaZfLr2IfHp975DPi79vRrML2Nrii-YQ2iss115F0HBHKxZx4yZIZv6Dqeh8xllyOO61tqKqhOIepwoQqeyagMK6bxdrQJIuaGAehghvpVTDFYG0zuz6VEld6igt5Flu3sVcXnPeWRKVKHu0urAkqd71VK955c_mH8XzHMNNxrwiNolDUoh/s3126/inbound5879965872944452544.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3126" data-original-width="2084" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0yzpru3dhfEaZfLr2IfHp975DPi79vRrML2Nrii-YQ2iss115F0HBHKxZx4yZIZv6Dqeh8xllyOO61tqKqhOIepwoQqeyagMK6bxdrQJIuaGAehghvpVTDFYG0zuz6VEld6igt5Flu3sVcXnPeWRKVKHu0urAkqd71VK955c_mH8XzHMNNxrwiNolDUoh/w426-h640/inbound5879965872944452544.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-19480066468433103612024-01-10T10:58:00.000-08:002024-01-10T11:38:41.452-08:00Brass Monkeys - The New Year Hangover - Race Report<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR9MgjrVty4LR5wP_9QyyhMZyOCGKaasiz7TtQcVNoGFj5Pg-IyxT1dsZaYXmsINDqdh4jURAAEfoIADHECfdXT2FeyO8xvqQvKPr3DaQJzHE9tTeCcY92G0xU2RRSqUK2f9Wf5xNTZos_J1zNLKJpbL50nGreXLkdrEBbJF6JqH1SglcvzrB8-kOHe9T7/s2277/20240107_161612.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="2277" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR9MgjrVty4LR5wP_9QyyhMZyOCGKaasiz7TtQcVNoGFj5Pg-IyxT1dsZaYXmsINDqdh4jURAAEfoIADHECfdXT2FeyO8xvqQvKPr3DaQJzHE9tTeCcY92G0xU2RRSqUK2f9Wf5xNTZos_J1zNLKJpbL50nGreXLkdrEBbJF6JqH1SglcvzrB8-kOHe9T7/w640-h506/20240107_161612.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br />Just making it onto the start line on Sunday was my goal achieved. After being ill in November and taking 4 weeks totally off the bike at the beginning of December, my aspiration during my slow recovery since then had been to get well enough to just attend the ‘Muc-off Brass Monkeys - The New Year Hangover’. I didn’t commit to the full 4 hour race, instead opting for the softer 3 hour Open category. I was extremely pleased I made this decision! </span></span><p></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-21091aa5-7fff-7979-42ad-d5b259944e0e"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Conditions on the morning were cold and bright, which made a change from the excessively wet weather we’ve been enduring. It wasn’t just the weather that was different, we also congregated at a new venue - Eelmore Plain. First impressions were positive, with good parking and a nice tarmac area for warming-up.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I rolled up at the very, very back of the large grid of riders. I can honestly say I’ve never started this far back in a Brass Monkeys. By stretching and peering through the gaggle of jostling riders ahead of me, I could just about make out a friend on the front row.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Once the starting horn had blown Jon was long gone by the time I rolled out onto the start loop. The course Gorrick had put together at Eelmore was a mixture of broad, open sandy trails linked by loamy singletrack amongst the trees. Early on there was a water splash crossing and I thought to myself that’s a nice novel feature! Then we met another, and then another and another. It went on and on. The water table was so high that sometimes there were quite long stretches where pedalling meant dipping your feet into the water. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">On the first lap I felt ok despite the conditions. At the very first big braking zone my lever pulled straight to the handlebar, but that wasn’t hugely surprising given the grim conditions. It was just disappointing it happened so early. The flat nature of the course meant it was hard for me to make much impact on those in front. So I sat in the snake of riders, who gradually fell off, ground to a halt in the mud or just faded away. Until I was left following another friend of mine, Ian, over the line to complete lap 1. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Just 35 minutes into the race and I could already feel the lactic building in my legs. I hadn’t ridden for 3 hours since October so I’d already known that Sunday was going to test me physically. I passed Ian, but with my legs burning and the lack of rear brake, I had little confidence in the slippery conditions. I was honestly just thinking about getting back to the carpark and heading home.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">When I got to the end of the 2nd lap I rolled through the line, but I kept going. I’m not sure why. Partly because an old school friend was there and it seemed wrong to call it quits while he was excitedly shouting, “Go on Ben!”</span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">On the next lap I got wetter and more tired. I now had almost no brakes front or rear. It was lucky the course was fairly flat and SO muddy, as this meant there wasn’t much speed involved to require braking! Where I did miss the brakes was when controlling the bike in slides or through technical sections. Instead I just ploughed onwards, crashing through the roots and bomb holes. This time I was definitely going to stop when I got to the line. But as the line drew near I talked myself into doing at least 2 hours to equal (and justify) the hours journey time there and back to Eelmore. So on I went.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I was wet, physically exhausted and the bike was mechanically a mess. It wasn’t just the brakes that the elements had destroyed. Every pedal stroke sounded like stirring gravel with a metal spoon. Truth be told I wasn’t enjoying myself - at all. This is very unlike me, as I usually get a real buzz and a kick from racing. I stopped in the pit area at the end of the next lap and rinsed water from my bottle through the brakes, hoping to breath some life back into them. I teetered on the very verge of packing it in, but in the end I ate a banana, swigged some water, looked around and set off again. At this point I thought there was technically time for 2 more laps, but I soon realised that I was right on the cusp. So when that 5th lap was finally complete this time I did head for the car, knowing that nobody behind me would be completing another lap either.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In the end I’m pleased with 7th place. I know I wasn’t in the main race with the fast boys, but considering how it had felt at the time I’ll take it. The challenge I’ve set now is to do the 4 hour race in 3 weeks at the final round of the series. I hope I continue to feel better and surely the conditions can’t be as bad as there were at Eelmore.</span></span></p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyWArrezgzTiVREr6sd4NszNB3BZr4_ItwsqUOYaXuG88wIPLoBw3-dvG9Hz5IIFSwv0yj4QY6gFnR91WNwBA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div></span>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-53889385247661397552023-12-01T11:01:00.000-08:002023-12-05T05:39:34.895-08:00Stolen Goat Climb and Conquer Winter Cycling Gloves Review<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbU_xwk0JqCOqKWpPI1qjIcbz9Zle8xEjWBV0ZTkiR6zN4B1E-DzceCukfBO8zfMwW8BPwwY1pw4M-VXOZD4DhXeYqDv6JKpo0X8Dx-HUU4jRKL2CjJ9-C77HBNWTYfmRwMj_7hSksSMlmq1OfnKY8Pc6pKPvGhFqBgcNUYfvKNuur6hHYV1tSX_t-QRQx/s4624/20231126_075922.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2084" data-original-width="4624" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbU_xwk0JqCOqKWpPI1qjIcbz9Zle8xEjWBV0ZTkiR6zN4B1E-DzceCukfBO8zfMwW8BPwwY1pw4M-VXOZD4DhXeYqDv6JKpo0X8Dx-HUU4jRKL2CjJ9-C77HBNWTYfmRwMj_7hSksSMlmq1OfnKY8Pc6pKPvGhFqBgcNUYfvKNuur6hHYV1tSX_t-QRQx/w640-h288/20231126_075922.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />I've bought several items of clothing from Stolen Goat that have become some of my favorite bits of kit. For example the winter jersey is outstanding when the temperature takes a dive. So I happily splashed out on their winter gloves.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Cold hands is a real issue for me on the bike. I am well known amongst my friends for my lobster claw gloves on winter rides. These gloves are big and bulky which means dexterity with brakes and gears is restricted. When I saw an ad for the Stolen Goat <b><span style="color: #fcff01;">"Apocalypse proof"</span></b> gloves I ordered r</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">eally hoping they would be the holy grail of winter cycling gloves for my cold pinkies.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> Especially since I've had a lot of success with Stolen Goat before.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The gloves are advertised as waterproof and windproof as well as suitable for colder temperatures. The promised warmth is surprising as there isn't much bulk to the material, little more than a thick woolen glove in appearance. There are silicone dots on the palms for grip and the grey finger tips are for using your mobile phone.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The recent cold weather means I've been able to get a good range of experience with the the Stolen Goat gloves. First up was a road ride with the temperature in the mid to high single digits. It wasn't that cold and the gloves were more than up to the task. On the positive side they didn't get too hot and clammy and the silicone grippers and the touch screen fingers worked a treat.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Next up was an MTB ride, one or two degrees below zero. I didn't take any risks and wore a thin liner inside the Stolen Goats. The ride was bearable. While off-road and when climbing my hands didn't get cold, but they definitely weren't warm and toasty either. On any long descent or on road sections when my speed was higher, my fingers were uncomfortably chilly. Also the gloves now look decidedly second hand. Trail side brambles and twigs have plucked at the woolen type surface, creating bobbles and pulls. Not holes, but the appearance is rather ruined on only their second outing.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Next ride was a classic UK winter ride. Temperatures started around 0 and then rose a degree or three as the ride progressed. Again I used liners and things were about bearable, but when I got home I had the painful wait for the feeling to slowly return to my fingers.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The final ride was at 5 degrees Celcius with showers of rain. Sadly my hands got wet, although luckily the wind proofing did work and stopped my hands getting too cold. The damp seemed to initially soak into the palm and fingers where I was squeezing the gloves against wet grips.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I do like the fit of the gloves, the long cuff allows you to pull them over a jersey sleeve and/or tuck them up inside your jacket. Creating a nice seal against the elements. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Overall my experiences with the Stolen Goats have been a disappointment. They are sadly not a replacement for my Lobster Claw gloves. They do however provide good grip and control in cool temperatures, so I can see myself using them at the autumn and spring ends of the winter season. I've also worn them under my lobster claws and that is the ultimate cold weather protection. However, there was a lot of material between my hands and the controls, but it was manageable and better than numb digits! I'd also add that the open weave material means these are really just for the road, as they are going to look very tatty very quickly if I keep using them on my MTB. Also there is no nice dedicated nose wiping area, so you end up just using the general glove which isn't ideal or kind on the poor nostrils.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Conclusion: Ok if the apocalypse is dry and the temperature is above 5 degrees!</span></p><p><br /></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-2001055605034989422023-11-16T01:32:00.000-08:002023-11-16T01:55:19.187-08:00Is cycling an addiction?<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I aim to ride my bike everyday. It makes me happy when I do and it is part of my normal daily routine. Up to the end of October I had ridden 291 out of the 304 days this year. The missed days almost exclusively due to family holidays and travelling overseas for work. Then at the beginning of November I got ill and I've had to address a period of time away from my bikes.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">First and foremost I ride, as I said, because I simply enjoy it. Cycling is how I relax and socialise. It is a way to keep fit, with some competitive goal always in my mind for motivation. However, I will admit that there are other pressures at work that lead me to suspect I am addicted to cycling.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The truth is I don't think I could stop. If I miss just a single ride I will start to get quite grouchy. The drive of this addiction is motivated throughout the year by weekly and monthly totals of hours in the saddle and miles ridden. I have a spreadsheet dating back to 1999 and the numbers in there are what drive me. Every week, every month, every year I am always conscious of my own history and I am always trying to beat it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">In my head I have set myself standards I consider acceptable, or in other words, minimum goals. 6000 miles a year is the starting point. That breaks down to 500 miles a month. February is always tough, as is August if we're fortunate enough to have a 2 week family holiday. 100 miles is the least I will accept in any single week. I must spend at least 7 hours covering those miles although I'm targeting ten. Even the rides themselves have goals within them. A weekend isn't a success without a ride ticking over the 3 hour mark. During that 3 hour ride I should cover at least 40 miles with 1000m of climbing. All this is totally irrelevant in terms of a structured training regime, it is based on the past 25 years and what I consider is acceptable.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">These self imposed rules dominate my life. If for some reason I don't hit all of the targets in any given week, I can live with that. I work hard to catch-up the following week. However if I start to miss my goals for a couple of weeks the grumpiness builds. Monthly targets are now in jeopardy and therefore also the magical 6000. Unreasonably it will effect how I am with my nearest and dearest. My wife will probably end up sending me out on my bike and telling me not to come home until I've cheered up! To be fair it works.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">So I don't cope well with being ill. I'll already not be feeling good and then as the days pass I can sense the rides slipping away one by one. The current period I am in is especially bad as it has been keeping me off the bike for longer than a week and the end isn't clearly in sight. Today marks the two week point since I last turned a pedal. My legs were tingling in bed last night, keeping me awake. I tossed and turned imagining it was the fitness literally seeping out of them.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgegJ88jLpsQQw76dBCeJ5uGVxuRuWJQjPQIV5wuexhoNFefpJUhL3YnwhlhmFxd09QId3bMUn__-AAe_uG5WIlNVgawWJ3wfpT2ahBluxvsgtWm7-2B2qsFUCU_34bDe9eLSUgsl2qSBccdAmpnqMemSH5tIA0TrFVV-7VVKRqAQJbyLWLADRhCeigu2Rd/s1425/Mileage.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1425" data-original-width="936" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgegJ88jLpsQQw76dBCeJ5uGVxuRuWJQjPQIV5wuexhoNFefpJUhL3YnwhlhmFxd09QId3bMUn__-AAe_uG5WIlNVgawWJ3wfpT2ahBluxvsgtWm7-2B2qsFUCU_34bDe9eLSUgsl2qSBccdAmpnqMemSH5tIA0TrFVV-7VVKRqAQJbyLWLADRhCeigu2Rd/w420-h640/Mileage.JPG" width="420" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The logical part of my brain tells me that 2 weeks is neither here nor there for a recreational mountain biker like myself. There is nothing logical about it though. Actually the issue is growing each day, burning and swelling inside me until I will have to give in. Especially as I start to feel better the pressure mounts, stronger and ever stronger to rush things and to get back on the bike. What harm will it do after all? By now in my head my legs have become spindly, wasted beanpoles unable to turn a crank. I must start the recovery right now! Hold on I can barely stand for more than 5 minutes. Never mind that, you are sitting down cycling so you'll be fine....</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I daren't look at my spreadsheet, oh no I have! The damage that two fat zeros has done in the mileage and hours columns is a disaster. Boosted by my spring ride across Europe, 8000 miles hadn't been out of the question for 2023. That's gone now.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">But hold on.....</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">As I scan back I can see that my second highest total in a year is 7178.6 miles. That should still be possible, shouldn't it? Doctor when can I get back on the bike please?</span></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-58821236273200346582023-11-06T11:59:00.002-08:002023-11-06T12:06:13.793-08:00Time out for illness<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgiZXbhgOPF22cOURbNsVi-bS1uPDKffTtZEGGPfoqeYme-gNrdeHNepAP7mpxuNJnP2faebvvyorCQAKnGNzQ6V5QQ-tc0cmZDaufPltytiUSA0FKUYIRMENa6u36a49hKHEFYn7n3ZN86DByjATgcEzTYZtXJ3MAXKAKFoxPDHzACGN1IcefP0rhUkOEz" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="344" data-original-width="501" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgiZXbhgOPF22cOURbNsVi-bS1uPDKffTtZEGGPfoqeYme-gNrdeHNepAP7mpxuNJnP2faebvvyorCQAKnGNzQ6V5QQ-tc0cmZDaufPltytiUSA0FKUYIRMENa6u36a49hKHEFYn7n3ZN86DByjATgcEzTYZtXJ3MAXKAKFoxPDHzACGN1IcefP0rhUkOEz" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />In recent weeks I've felt stronger on the bike than I have for some time. I definitely felt the good vibes and muscle memory return during the 2nd and 3rd laps of my race last week. I was buoyant and was looking forward to raising a challenge to the top ten again at the Brass Monkey winter series.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Then I got a cold. I hadn't been anywhere other than the race so I might even have picked it up there. What started as a sore throat has now triggered my asthma and rather than simply slowing me down has taken me off the bike altogether. I'm on steroids for the first time in almost 30 years and climbing the stairs is enough to get me out of breath.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">In reality a week off isn't going to make a big difference to my fitness, but I'm laid up frustratingly just when I wanted to push on.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-13068346862681364002023-10-30T15:50:00.005-07:002023-10-31T02:26:54.483-07:00Race Report - Gorrick Halloween XC Classic<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">That race day feeling of butterflies in the pit of my stomach was back! I woke early on Sunday because the clocks had gone back. I therefore had more time for the anxiety and stress levels to rise as I pushed my cereal around the bowl. In the car I switched on the radio for a distraction, but my stomach churned more and more the nearer I got to Frimley Green. Then as soon as I arrived it was like somebody had flicked a switch, all nerves disappeared. Despite a 9 month hiatus I slotted into my pre-race routine, my mind preoccupied with the process of preparing bike and rider for the Gorrick Halloween XC Classic.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYA1EoJGeXw31AeZJ9rR6zT_9273CahO0DNHY849Yb9I1edIUOb4vjhhSyYAnm29duRfQOqmSMVJ2aFMGmF1RSo0idSywz69oF5isWpADLHqpH5aqrTqitRHg40gnD4uhzazj0AYUWKotX8vUt-DB2JBjpw4z2J8AMyIY13djoTeGQ3iSiN5adU_O1mw7_/s3126/20231029_120422.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2084" data-original-width="3126" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYA1EoJGeXw31AeZJ9rR6zT_9273CahO0DNHY849Yb9I1edIUOb4vjhhSyYAnm29duRfQOqmSMVJ2aFMGmF1RSo0idSywz69oF5isWpADLHqpH5aqrTqitRHg40gnD4uhzazj0AYUWKotX8vUt-DB2JBjpw4z2J8AMyIY13djoTeGQ3iSiN5adU_O1mw7_/w400-h266/20231029_120422.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><p>It had rained all week, the ground was sodden and grey clouds loomed ominously. However, the sun was shining as I unpacked the bike and checked the tyre pressures. When I started my warm-up and reconnaissance lap I was surprised to quickly encounter two quite large drops or steps. Not scary (it is Halloween) but challenging for a Gorrick course! Lucky I had left my dropper post in, as I had considered removing it given the usual simple nature of these courses. The drops were both rollable, if I hung over the back tyre. From then on it was the usual course at Highlands Farm. Flat, twisting and narrow. It was almost impossible to pass even on the warm-up and I ended up trundling around in a chain of riders. Despite all the local flooding the course was in brilliant condition, the bike wasn't even getting dirty. As we closed back in on the car park though, the first fat drops of rain began to fall. Putting on a spurt I scurried back to the car, where I pushed back the drivers seat and sat munching a banana watching the water droplets have their own race down the windscreen. All the roots in the wood were getting a nice glossy sheen.</p></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Sitting at the start I unzipped my gillet before deciding to leave it on. I'd not forced my way to the front as I would have done once. It had been a while and my confidence wasn't there. I instead settled in on the back row and checked the shaved legs and racing snake physiques of my competitors. Which didn't help my confidence. I hadn't ridden in the wet for months. I hadn't raced for months. Yet here I was about to sprint off into the trees with this crowd, who would probably leave me for dead. With these positive thoughts running through my head the starting horn blew!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The first few corners were a deafening screech of wet disc rotors. Tyres were creating deep ruts in the now wet loamy soil. Mud was flicked up into my face as I followed the wheels ahead and tried hard to stay out of trouble amongst the melee. About a minute into the race I looked up. I'd guess there were about 20 riders ahead, not bad. I glanced behind. There were just three grim faces staring right back at me. Not so good!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We followed the the sinuous flapping lines of striped marker tape. There was nowhere to pass so I couldn't move forward, but equally I couldn't drop back any further either! I heard the horn as the Grand Vets race was released a few minutes after us. Soon I could see the leaders closing in on us as we were repeatedly backed up by conjestion and racing incidents. Some ahead chose to run to avoid the latest hold up of tangled riders, but I managed to stay on the bike and gain a few spots.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I know the leader of the approaching Grand Vets, I used to sponsor him in my previous life as a bike shop owner. "Hi Ben" he shouted, which is a polite way of saying "Get out of the f*#king way slow coach". I let him through and it wasn't long before another friend of mine was also on my wheel. He was fighting for a podium so I almost came to a halt to let him past, but three more riders on his wheel plus annoyingly somebody from my own category all pushed past me as I wasted 10 seconds being the good Samaritan. Where was my race head?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The leaders of the other race coming through had split my race up. I decided to follow the Grand Vets as they picked their way through the Veterans field. After all I should be able to hold the pace of these old boys! Tucking in with them I pulled the same trick that had just been pulled on me, sneaking past a few people without them spotting my Veteran number board.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Following the faster riders got my juices flowing. The back wheel fishtailed as I put down the power out of the bends. The brand new Fast Trak tyres did a great job of inspiring confidence in the slippery conditions. The T7 compound on the back would normally be a front tyre but probably helped provide some grip over those shiny roots.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I was moving forward but on such a fast course it was hard to make up the ground I'd lost at the start. To reel in the next target or pull away, I pushed as hard as I could on any remotely straight section of trail. Sometimes having to be quite cheeky and creative to sneak past.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'd just got past a couple of riders and they were in hot pursuit as the last lap began. The lactic burn was beginning to build up in my legs and for a moment I worried I'd blow up. I hung on as the lap progressed but didn't shake them off. I was getting held up by a back marker so</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> I desperately lunged to get ahead of them going into the final loop to the finish. I was thankful to get somebody in between myself and my pursuers. Then with less than a minute of racing remaining I saw a rider ahead. I put down every ounce of energy I had left and was lucky to reach him just as the trail briefly widened just enough for me to power straight through. I was now nearly dead in the saddle, but there was no way he could get back past if I just kept a tidy line around the last few bends and thankfully I then had enough for the last kick to the line.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm happy with the result of 13th. I might not have been threatening the front runners, but I had a great day and remembered the shear joy and adrenalin of racing.</span></p><p><br /></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-12421897680140414922023-10-16T09:15:00.003-07:002023-10-19T03:49:15.604-07:00Which cross country race tyres for winter?<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It is less than two weeks to my first race since January. I was left really demotivated by my last results, to the extent I haven't bothered racing at all this season. Despite there being some national events really close by, I've put my head in the sand and focused on other cycling related goals. I've missed the buzz however and feel that recently I've been riding into a little bit of form. Time will tell!</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQKYBh_VtTHAn90fd480ZsyizxZOp6JHSPepo70juWSeK8wx9GrhSaWDhpjk-VFAtzqQvBQ5NmHGhoZSqqhDKjCam_8fHogrtdg3aJsmgjGBT6Dat8xYqFA1arMXIJy8CDGdA4pQjmnnaiCLqiH8ZMgWrcHgR6lz73BJfY60p8y0kLWeMbE-9bVxlYAXHW/s2079/20231015_124353.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2079" data-original-width="2079" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQKYBh_VtTHAn90fd480ZsyizxZOp6JHSPepo70juWSeK8wx9GrhSaWDhpjk-VFAtzqQvBQ5NmHGhoZSqqhDKjCam_8fHogrtdg3aJsmgjGBT6Dat8xYqFA1arMXIJy8CDGdA4pQjmnnaiCLqiH8ZMgWrcHgR6lz73BJfY60p8y0kLWeMbE-9bVxlYAXHW/w400-h400/20231015_124353.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Autumn riding hazards. I'm not sure any tyre grips on these!</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The long Indian summer in the UK, stretching deep into October has certainly helped. Over the past month, with family holidays and work travel behind me I've been able to get in a consistent 10 hours of training each week. The trails have been beautiful and dry, which has been great for encouraging me to get out on the bike, but actually might not be representative of what I'm going to face over the winter. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">With mud in mind I've bought some new tyres. I come from an era where we raced 26x1.75in tyres because we thought they were light and fast. They were certainly lightweight, some of the skinniest dipping well under 500g. That means I really struggle now when I'm tyre shopping. The current crop of xc 2.35in race tyres are frequently over 700g. I've never put that much rubber on any bike, let alone my race bike.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The prices are also hard to come to terms with. £50 for something that you might tear during the first ride is tough to swallow. I've tried Schwalbe Rocket Rons and Racing Rays, Maxxis and Continental, but the price and the weight have left me searching for something else. Therefore I'm happy to turn to an old favourite of mine, the Specialized Fast Trak. Not a true winter tyre by any stretch, but a good all rounder that will live with winter conditions without such a draggy tread that it will hold me back on race day. For less that £40 too.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUZalX4R3-trPzxh9uCjio7e9X2fEXbSsUvQbuUAq42oJrCO4_sGr10EfUHp8aeLRBEyopuLMVChRh9tuB_0LkyOdffA4AkgLeSgnjPDZ1FWwGFsiv0iZq1gbfB_6cgGcg3Whe_eOn9vD9CPM3TeIEtUGftAgeI7Xe5xETAzIPKk4PEtP1EmE7b2qJJXly/s3521/20231016_170040.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2084" data-original-width="3521" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUZalX4R3-trPzxh9uCjio7e9X2fEXbSsUvQbuUAq42oJrCO4_sGr10EfUHp8aeLRBEyopuLMVChRh9tuB_0LkyOdffA4AkgLeSgnjPDZ1FWwGFsiv0iZq1gbfB_6cgGcg3Whe_eOn9vD9CPM3TeIEtUGftAgeI7Xe5xETAzIPKk4PEtP1EmE7b2qJJXly/w400-h236/20231016_170040.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The Fast Trak comes in different 'flavours' depending how much grip you are looking for. I've just received a Control T7. The Control casing offers puncture protection without a massive weight penalty. The Gripton T7 is a softer rubber compound that I hope will help when faced with wet roots and soft loamy soil. I already have a Control T5 which is made of slightly harder rubber for less rolling resistance and more speed. The new T7 weighs 715g which is about 25g more than the T5 and as I mentioned makes it hard for me to consider it as a 'race' tyre. So I've also bought an S-Works Fast Trak. This is made with a combination of the fast rolling T5 compound in the center and gripper T7 around the outside. All for a wonderful weight of 630g. The lower weight is due to a thinner 120tpi casing which I hope is nice and supple on the front wheel, offering more grip. The trade off is that it certainly won't be as tough, so comes with the increased risk of punctures.</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">With these three tyres I should be able to find a combination for whatever the race day weather gods decide to throw at us. </span> </p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-88139067417207698372023-09-27T10:14:00.007-07:002023-09-27T12:24:21.401-07:00Stay safe cycling with a tracker<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Just over four years ago I went missing while out on an evening ride after work. The sun set, my dinner got cold and my wife had absolutely no idea where I was. I wasn't answering my phone and in her mind I could have been dead or in agony amongst the trees of any wood within a 20 mile radius. I was eventually found 5 hours after I left home, by a road worker. I was lying, still unconscious, at the side of the A27 close to the Shopwyke foot crossing, just east of Chichester. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Any route out to the trails from my house takes me over the A27. The main link road along the south coast of England. I have no recollection of what happened that evening. My Garmin tells us I was on my way back, just a couple of miles from home. Then I didn't move for 3 hours. Amazingly I was largely unscathed apart from a head ache and a few scuffs and grazes. The main damage was psychological. I feel terrible for what my wife must have gone through. It must have become very apparent to her something bad had happened and there was absolutely no way for her locate me. She rang all my friends, but I was on my own and there was no</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> advice or help they could offer. I'd be a mess if roles were reversed. I of course was actually blissfully oblivious, dozing away in the long grass. But I do think sometimes about what would have happened if my injuries had been more serious or that road worker hadn't spotted me amongst his traffic cones?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">From that day on I have always ridden with some form of tracker with me, so people know where I am. Currently that is the Lifef360 app on my phone. I've used this to enable people to track me on adventures all over the world and it is great - provided you have phone signal. There were a few times on my South Downs Double ride </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">when the app reported that I'd failed to move for 15 minutes. M</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">y family thought I'd come a cropper or had a puncture, while presumably I actually traversed a valley or was deep in a wooded area away from phone masts. I feel naked now if I realise in the middle of a fast descent that I've forgotten to turn on my mobile data.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">For a long time this year the Shopwyke crossing on the A27, where I had my accident, has been closed. They have replaced the existing crossing with a bridge. I'd been finding alternative crossing points since my incident, but as soon as it opened I was eager to return to the most direct route out to Goodwood.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The walkway/cycleway is very wide, much wider than any other bridge in the area. It links two traffic free roads and I expect will become my primary crossing point again, now I can cross without having to dodge lorries and cars at 70mph. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv411A9Ynxdw63v24OvH4m07yASX4XfON-DE0wvVzGbu97poHY1yKtMS2zx0MArGYU26LWspawdRch69y10Sv4wWexwjRDQ7-wSMoylgADfJ24x53993TtOlRRuNpQDCoYoyikEgGdXmREh0W15uwpxvePi5XHD8VL9PF35Rb2PoONdbCcGoRLZDy2H5KT/s1442/20230927_090545.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1442" data-original-width="1441" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv411A9Ynxdw63v24OvH4m07yASX4XfON-DE0wvVzGbu97poHY1yKtMS2zx0MArGYU26LWspawdRch69y10Sv4wWexwjRDQ7-wSMoylgADfJ24x53993TtOlRRuNpQDCoYoyikEgGdXmREh0W15uwpxvePi5XHD8VL9PF35Rb2PoONdbCcGoRLZDy2H5KT/w640-h640/20230927_090545.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-63333005721379395642023-09-21T14:47:00.004-07:002023-09-21T14:55:38.208-07:00Maximum Heart Rate <p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It has been a while since I raced and the results earlier in the year were disappointing. I could ride consistent lap times all day long, but they weren't fast enough. I'd done the base miles training for other things like the South Downs Double, but had no top end speed.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiruQTaS_69tGYaUgBzVKYaz1eeWmT2goNEgZZA8awbzJHwfLVN33c0wjUoeQLcdH4B1MVWcm8QcnQ0Suvv_qp_lh4p1JLHuD-wYHSuIKpGeZXwoQGzAVGJsJ5xa5fwjTkmQpbE37noPqsaG99rs4fZt5LNqnV9jAFb-pJ4hawk9CwuwzOmEJCKY5V-vW_p/s2110/20230910_115611.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2084" data-original-width="2110" height="395" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiruQTaS_69tGYaUgBzVKYaz1eeWmT2goNEgZZA8awbzJHwfLVN33c0wjUoeQLcdH4B1MVWcm8QcnQ0Suvv_qp_lh4p1JLHuD-wYHSuIKpGeZXwoQGzAVGJsJ5xa5fwjTkmQpbE37noPqsaG99rs4fZt5LNqnV9jAFb-pJ4hawk9CwuwzOmEJCKY5V-vW_p/w400-h395/20230910_115611.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The other week for some reason the usual Sunday Social ride became an off-road team time trial. We tore along the trails at warp speed trying to rip each others legs off on every climb, descent and all the bits in-between! I spent over an hour of the 3hrs I was riding with the guys, in my top heart rate zone.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I was ruined when I got home but I hadn't got dropped or spat out the back of the group. The others have been racing all summer so it had hurt but it gave me hope. Since then I've been following a more structured week, instead of just crunching out the miles.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Part of this is something I haven't for done a while. Hill rep intervals! When I was younger I'd head out every Tuesday and push the heart rate monitor up to 220. Now-a-days I'm coughing up a lung at about 185bpm.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It hurts and the final rep is always torture, but the raging endorphins riding home and the sense of achievement is worth it. I've got a month until the Gorrick Halloween race. Lets hope I'll have more va-va-voom when the starting horn sounds.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiln6UypSP4nQeYJN5afANO3pLf9BdCr6MTFVHHD6ElrttyRY39ronSBaIjk2oLQuCXakx5MTW0aSPo-PQ7CtK49_kDdmF_NrG4NbKeG1c4RPlrCoq_mvuh1ZT0Wv5wqkhBipBURmVNyIEAUpoWYfudDU1Ea2wEE1WPlS-eotBng6QyhY_JSwthZD_ssbi-/s2880/GOPR0438_ALTA35861458964288399.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2880" data-original-width="2880" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiln6UypSP4nQeYJN5afANO3pLf9BdCr6MTFVHHD6ElrttyRY39ronSBaIjk2oLQuCXakx5MTW0aSPo-PQ7CtK49_kDdmF_NrG4NbKeG1c4RPlrCoq_mvuh1ZT0Wv5wqkhBipBURmVNyIEAUpoWYfudDU1Ea2wEE1WPlS-eotBng6QyhY_JSwthZD_ssbi-/w400-h400/GOPR0438_ALTA35861458964288399.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-82314575054865202542023-09-16T12:44:00.003-07:002023-09-16T12:44:28.172-07:00Summer continues!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZsKAiM4hDXJSqFQsZGNSU1RGryFaBCEV7JU3VOAYE1va9fsHzpnN_AlIMDfYSYsXuWdLLhi9OTump64dACAVHbYJwstGlDWTEhuXlThOgvWbUc2t4CfIzFKWdUXm_pW-h-w4y7tJnFhCzDqLKR7o9wEbigZeYaLvu8KosQKxTHkX7i3m5PHsvJzNxgSo9/s1125/Screenshot_20230916_202639_Strava.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="1053" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZsKAiM4hDXJSqFQsZGNSU1RGryFaBCEV7JU3VOAYE1va9fsHzpnN_AlIMDfYSYsXuWdLLhi9OTump64dACAVHbYJwstGlDWTEhuXlThOgvWbUc2t4CfIzFKWdUXm_pW-h-w4y7tJnFhCzDqLKR7o9wEbigZeYaLvu8KosQKxTHkX7i3m5PHsvJzNxgSo9/w375-h400/Screenshot_20230916_202639_Strava.jpg" width="375" /></a></div><br /><p>Strava reminded me that it was a year ago today that my road bike came out of its annual Summer hibernation. So far this year it is still tucked up in the shed. It hasn't been ridden since the 13th April (the day we arrived in Barcelona!)</p><p>Maybe today was our last chance to ride dry trails, under blue sky's, with the sun warm on our backs. Autumn is surely coming.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNx5GSTnC8JWyD0PodYuJtTYQmDnLuz8Y-FoYo8SnjG6MpM4vBSG0v5bTnAATYgFr-44sB2OlrUybgzi3vbbmu3jbaggO6XgglDsB-pTCG6YRWZ1i_w1wEoxPfKlEvaoiCNSACaPB1rid2iifXxGcC3fCfRv3ZOEXanuYNJEJQc1-D9XmmGBvpso1EEJLz/s1440/IMG_20230916_133757_294.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNx5GSTnC8JWyD0PodYuJtTYQmDnLuz8Y-FoYo8SnjG6MpM4vBSG0v5bTnAATYgFr-44sB2OlrUybgzi3vbbmu3jbaggO6XgglDsB-pTCG6YRWZ1i_w1wEoxPfKlEvaoiCNSACaPB1rid2iifXxGcC3fCfRv3ZOEXanuYNJEJQc1-D9XmmGBvpso1EEJLz/w400-h400/IMG_20230916_133757_294.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-90913812297716722112023-09-04T13:41:00.001-07:002023-09-04T13:46:33.253-07:00Madison Crypto Glasses First Ride Review<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I haven't had new cycle specs for a couple of years, so although </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">I have finally switched over to longer socks, </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">I admit I haven't been at the cutting edge of fashion posing at the local cafe. My real motivation however for buying some more glasses was that I needed some clear lenses ahead of winter, as my old ones are getting scratched and tired.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">There are two options with glasses. Splash out on the latest designer brand (you know I mean Oakley) and hope they are tough and durable and provide many years of service. Or go cheap and cheerful, knowing that in reality you'll sit on them or lose them somewhere in the wood within 2 weeks of purchasing. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">At £45 the Madison Crypto's lean more towards the second category. On first impression though they punch well above their relatively low price. I was very impressed with the quality packaging.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbgKRsT3Bp_8BFtoCwArO82iyZqxjV-MOzmaFDLG0A9zVt8vo0wppXs8p7dJl6i5kIsdXCGWDtCjEywZQ8iv7Rx-Xrl95_o5DloJ_o0zh5R_YmlvYbZ4EEQt-veWgNpmJ2Z_zJ6JyrWI8xwHkLbtp7PKQsopjEUIHD6Pec4UMyt7AfQG_zgKtVYNV64r_S/s3902/20230902_150533.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3902" data-original-width="2084" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbgKRsT3Bp_8BFtoCwArO82iyZqxjV-MOzmaFDLG0A9zVt8vo0wppXs8p7dJl6i5kIsdXCGWDtCjEywZQ8iv7Rx-Xrl95_o5DloJ_o0zh5R_YmlvYbZ4EEQt-veWgNpmJ2Z_zJ6JyrWI8xwHkLbtp7PKQsopjEUIHD6Pec4UMyt7AfQG_zgKtVYNV64r_S/w342-h640/20230902_150533.jpg" width="342" /></span></a></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Inside the box the glasses came fitted with the mirror tint lenses, as these look the most striking. Also included are some yellow tinted lenses for low light levels and the clear lenses that I was originally after. There is also a nice case to keep everything together and a pouch for polishing and storing the glasses in.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYU1O6Me6l9lzhaPJaoVMjX2VFauTptQ32L4OMviZAylwk7QIh9sXjELjS--QbQrPg4Drd1Eu2ZD1_V0A4tMJzyUwWf3UQGCQ2WGyWgAm_3yYlezNlU9rbxE9i79ogTAvu87pFDhW2Ps2yf59Q3Oy7ncOtW1C02GDzmZvFJR-Tql-Ki5TgmbWLKyTkp2Iu/s4373/20230902_150635.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2084" data-original-width="4373" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYU1O6Me6l9lzhaPJaoVMjX2VFauTptQ32L4OMviZAylwk7QIh9sXjELjS--QbQrPg4Drd1Eu2ZD1_V0A4tMJzyUwWf3UQGCQ2WGyWgAm_3yYlezNlU9rbxE9i79ogTAvu87pFDhW2Ps2yf59Q3Oy7ncOtW1C02GDzmZvFJR-Tql-Ki5TgmbWLKyTkp2Iu/w640-h304/20230902_150635.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I bought these at the beginning for September with Autumn and the coming winter in mind. However, the weather currently has other ideas and the first ride was on a beautiful sunny day with temperatures in the mid 20's. Therefore I left the mirror lenses in and hit the trails.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHtkIE8vn0emGCnP_S_ak4VQKuq3BBQIf62Ke-Ca3awJeWrLrCCWdW2MwCFIOA6yRuFIWw4D6paVQ7RoUsWygIc2APUOzMp71r50_kXI68ysNtn6cjW-Ymzj1m_fRrmiMdetQ8wB-vx5QY72If09z8E1kfM9m-hbbjmz_RE_z05nC6TkrxjVXx7biKKzLm/s3264/20230902_151030.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHtkIE8vn0emGCnP_S_ak4VQKuq3BBQIf62Ke-Ca3awJeWrLrCCWdW2MwCFIOA6yRuFIWw4D6paVQ7RoUsWygIc2APUOzMp71r50_kXI68ysNtn6cjW-Ymzj1m_fRrmiMdetQ8wB-vx5QY72If09z8E1kfM9m-hbbjmz_RE_z05nC6TkrxjVXx7biKKzLm/w480-h640/20230902_151030.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />The most obvious thing about the Crypto's is how the large profile is very on trend. Offering maximum coverage, like a wide screen TV on my face. Despite the sunshine it had rained a few days earlier and there was plenty of mud still being flicked up by my front tyre and from the guys in front. Nothing was getting past these lenses though! </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The risk might be that instead of my vison being attacked from the front, things start to mist up on the inside. I certainly worked up a decent sweat chasing my usual riding buddies, but had no issues with steaming up. This is helped by the adjustable nose piece which allows you to space the lenses with a slight gap to allow air to circulate. Obviously everybody's face is different but the wrap is spot on for me. I also didn't have sweat dribbling down the inside which is often an issue I have. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">My first ride was a definite success. The tinted lenses were occasionally a bit dark under the trees, so I slide the glasses down my nose and peered over the top like a stern school mistress! I look forward to popping in the clear lenses in the near future and providing an update.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The Crypto have the latest modern look and I think exude a quality above the price tag. No need for brand envy here while chatting at the trail head. Based on the first ride there were no issues and I didn't really think about them once we were cycling, which is the best thing to say about something new, but so fundamental to riding in comfort.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVhOU-s3ErfJEOvi6wDpbbPK7cYL6Wn9zZchhTeNSMO9bZmsum2-bT0m2V29kNNV3z0wj5Sysv3qhucUG3YK-uflTVMV8FQH3SFHTJf1pEi6kYWCdGAVa9_qCVqJ_60NH8-RDVtf-rBI38bhYKT7idRHE7vKZ73gGu0kFp6C5rcrnVTAYaejwwYPOt-LIl/s4000/20230903_125632.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVhOU-s3ErfJEOvi6wDpbbPK7cYL6Wn9zZchhTeNSMO9bZmsum2-bT0m2V29kNNV3z0wj5Sysv3qhucUG3YK-uflTVMV8FQH3SFHTJf1pEi6kYWCdGAVa9_qCVqJ_60NH8-RDVtf-rBI38bhYKT7idRHE7vKZ73gGu0kFp6C5rcrnVTAYaejwwYPOt-LIl/s320/20230903_125632.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-54701527270109304692023-05-08T14:36:00.012-07:002023-05-09T09:07:30.313-07:00Cycle to Barcelona<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Departure Day : Chichester to Portsmouth - 20 miles</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It didn't start well! Both my 750ml bottles broke before I even left my driveway when the bike fell over in the wind while I was locking the front door. So in a last minute flap I left five minutes late after shooting back indoors to fill two smaller bottles. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I met up with Chris, Nigel and Craig at Chris's house. My family had driven there and our kids all came out into the street to give us a noisy send off! We were lucky to miss the rain on the way to Portsmouth even though the roads were damp.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs3DWkT-CljuOmsl2-NzIJiG87qmPqik5QRbDWYDZGtpXfsEEGvAJ7Y-_biqwSoJrEeCEafZ-oBRomSJNMUMtHDxuzaJHeBxiV_deSnC9sWj2Q_lCC5LcFPrdwqai2Pq16N4qJwR_J1tfmC7wpGSnI-3p01GjmC4gHJUd7ofjQ8QTcFgVsiAY_SkmHTg/s1024/IMG-20230406-WA0001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs3DWkT-CljuOmsl2-NzIJiG87qmPqik5QRbDWYDZGtpXfsEEGvAJ7Y-_biqwSoJrEeCEafZ-oBRomSJNMUMtHDxuzaJHeBxiV_deSnC9sWj2Q_lCC5LcFPrdwqai2Pq16N4qJwR_J1tfmC7wpGSnI-3p01GjmC4gHJUd7ofjQ8QTcFgVsiAY_SkmHTg/w400-h300/IMG-20230406-WA0001.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Chris hit a pot hole as we came into the city and broke his bottle cage. As the bottle tumbled out onto the road I ran directly over it, but luckily it somehow didn't burst and I stayed upright. Still we weren't having much luck with bottles it seemed!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Arriving at the port we had to loiter outside on the dock with the queuing cars for 2hrs waiting for the 11pm ferry. It was cold and I was shivering, but at least it wasn't raining I suppose! When we finally did get on board we were directed to just leave our bikes in a random area with a pile of rusty chains and boxes of equipment. There was no allocated location for bicycles it seemed. We clambered up the stairs with our bags and finally into the warmth, only to discover that our allocated seats were in a room reserved for a French school. We just crashed in another room and hoped we wouldn't get moved on. The upright seats were not conducive to sleeping so I curled up on the floor, but it was still unfathomably cold. Wrapped in my cycle jacket I huddled under the chairs until about 2am in the morning when a young girl trod on me and then as I sat up in the dark her mother poked me firmly in the eye. I got no sleep at all. Not ideal prep for 7 days in the saddle. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Day One : Caen to Laval - 112 miles</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Day one started with getting dressed into my cycle kit in a tiny Ferry toilet, after an early coffee and pain au chocolate. A simply stunning sunrise greeted us as we left the ferry and headed along the beautiful canal past Pegasus Bridge and into Normandy. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfS6gLtv05PRq3HjukE3zt_wWx_FJl3M57wr9LJzpu42Lmibtap1MkcxZFkKisO6ZHB4UGr0qrlCOilMZ09o6IVfNrPbVFUxQSmwJc36zaiVo5RhBtahRy637IzDIQQbDICmqDQa-GN3jNAiYO4MMbKbt7EyiRhP618t-6-CUiqaUGPZeMDFz6fnI2HQ/s1080/FB_IMG_1680898312660.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfS6gLtv05PRq3HjukE3zt_wWx_FJl3M57wr9LJzpu42Lmibtap1MkcxZFkKisO6ZHB4UGr0qrlCOilMZ09o6IVfNrPbVFUxQSmwJc36zaiVo5RhBtahRy637IzDIQQbDICmqDQa-GN3jNAiYO4MMbKbt7EyiRhP618t-6-CUiqaUGPZeMDFz6fnI2HQ/w400-h300/FB_IMG_1680898312660.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It remained picture postcard pretty as we followed the river into the countryside, but it was about 3 degrees and I soon couldn't feel my hands as we cycled in the shade of the hillside that followed the water course. The path was a disused railway line, so there was no traffic and we saw hardly anybody all morning. When we stopped for coffee I stamped about the town square in agony as the blood vessels opened in my hands and the feeling slowly returned. Once I was able to unzip my bags and hold a spoon I sat there on a bench munching Frosties in the golden sunshine. They were washed down with the strongest most welcome coffee ever, in the warm porch of a sports bar. Finally I felt human again and was pleased to discover the route left the shadow of the hillside by the river, following silent lanes through quaint quintessential French villages. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">After a lunch of jambon baguette, which had been strapped to the side of my saddle bag since the coffee stop, we hit a long straight and undulating roman road. We made good progress, but it was wearing and a little soul destroying to see the ribbon of tarmac stretching out to the horizon every time we crested a ridge in the road.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The last few miles into Laval were back on a gravel tow path by the river. Again this was beautiful, with the river crisscrossed by weirs, and bridges. Eventually the path became busier with people out enjoying the sunshine, as we swung into town. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Our first Airbnb was amazing, complete with a garage for bike fettling and a room each. It was a family house and I was in an Avengers themed young boys room. We walked into town and bought spaghetti and once back Craig cooked us meatballs made from the local butchers sausages. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I finished the day feeling OK, but I had been fighting cramp behind my knees in both legs. My neck was also sore and I worried that night about the days to come. My gears were a mess too, I assume from when the bike blew over before I left home. The mech hanger was probably bent and although I had a spare I struggled with the bolt and not wanting to risk rounding it off I instead settled for tuning the gears as well as I could. A little frustrating when I had tuned them perfectly before departure. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">To be honest I wasn't massively looking forward to another 100 miles the next day, although the forecast was fortunately good again. The idea of another 6 days was quite daunting. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzblu7j5ikFo3FojqcC0ZZuBRSxjIJZljDYvwcCZJ8hHeOAy3dMjO1RGQRzfHn7qhOgmUrbCLUPHYbyEBSKIFeB74xP5RWFgwAngb62KqBOFmETN3WpLnlA6JdQfwYRbFAp3buwGWRd0UbQVaB3CdgvpA-CQdsOFxd3_v72btJid4MZLreLilve5fmCA/s3473/20230408_114830.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2084" data-original-width="3473" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzblu7j5ikFo3FojqcC0ZZuBRSxjIJZljDYvwcCZJ8hHeOAy3dMjO1RGQRzfHn7qhOgmUrbCLUPHYbyEBSKIFeB74xP5RWFgwAngb62KqBOFmETN3WpLnlA6JdQfwYRbFAp3buwGWRd0UbQVaB3CdgvpA-CQdsOFxd3_v72btJid4MZLreLilve5fmCA/w400-h240/20230408_114830.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Day 2 : Laval to La Coudre - 95 miles</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Today actually felt like a holiday! The sun shone and by the afternoon we were all down to short sleeves and had peeled off the leg warmers.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We cycled from village to village, connecting the dots across the countryside using the church spires. We stopped for coffee in a town square and when we finally emerged we walked across the road, bought lunch in the patisserie opposite and then sat down again in the square outside to eat it! Progress was, shall we say, leisurely!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It didn't matter as much because today was the shortest day. It helped mentally that the miles remaining was already under 50 by lunch and we had the entire afternoon ahead of us. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Our overnight stay was in the upstairs rooms of a country house, right next door to the village church. There were goats grazing in the field behind. The owners kindly handed over their kitchen to let Craig again cook our dinner, this time of chicken, bacon and pasta purchased a few miles up the road. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Quite the opposite from yesterday we were all sharing a room today. Tiredness quickly overcame the sounds of others snoring for another good nights sleep. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGF7Aidal0t7RwfKV9a_dQnzoFqEI4sfqOlYgL_z9UBE0fS3Bj506oMLll6ZcL7lR2FxCGbfy3AV5Y4JuLnI7ZSvAk5_USJjyuURFNSPi4kfF9RAn1W-QpqvCC-p-dWeGTYkvVW7rI4LQlmiBM4APurWaSudfHdc2-rwY8KLIpzdmSui3M4HIqc0wUng/s2082/IMG_20230409_220226_996.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2082" data-original-width="2082" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGF7Aidal0t7RwfKV9a_dQnzoFqEI4sfqOlYgL_z9UBE0fS3Bj506oMLll6ZcL7lR2FxCGbfy3AV5Y4JuLnI7ZSvAk5_USJjyuURFNSPi4kfF9RAn1W-QpqvCC-p-dWeGTYkvVW7rI4LQlmiBM4APurWaSudfHdc2-rwY8KLIpzdmSui3M4HIqc0wUng/w400-h400/IMG_20230409_220226_996.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Day 3 : La Coudre to Chateauneuf-sur-Charente - 118 miles</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Another freezing start as our hosts waved us away to the sound of the church bells ringing in Easter Sunday. Looking back to shout "au revoir" the sun was just coming up over the roof of the house. Again I had numb hands, but they had chance to recover at our first supermarket stop, while Craig came up with an ingenious solution to help space his bar bag away from his cables using a clamp purchased in the Lidl middle isle!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We stopped for coffee in the next town, taking the sports bar chairs across the road so we could sit in the sunshine overlooking the scene of busy Easter Sunday shoppers in the Carrefore car park! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Easter meant everywhere world be shutting early. We endured the frustration of watching a lady lock the door of our chosen lunch time supermarket, literally as we rolled across the carpark towards her. That meant we headed into town hungry and searching for food. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">There was a bustling market just shutting up, but we ended up eating the finest of French cuisine at Starbucks! However the toasted sandwiches tasted mightily good after 50 miles, as we sat and chatted in the sunshine. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJRrtu26xVOV0GxridLZSMhkH_b5SR0sq4MkLBdQWQxfm2TV9Xbd03TQS0w8IvT8w3HRDWmcUORERHQ9-74eEZh1oZxTpR3rQgC_zrc1WZRpEq3dtQgiMGDeIheqmQ_dOThZUCpbgQllHEYdCA6HK4sz_u180UDrdkcRzRA0DWr1qbfg6jeetH9PaBgg/s4000/20230409_132948.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJRrtu26xVOV0GxridLZSMhkH_b5SR0sq4MkLBdQWQxfm2TV9Xbd03TQS0w8IvT8w3HRDWmcUORERHQ9-74eEZh1oZxTpR3rQgC_zrc1WZRpEq3dtQgiMGDeIheqmQ_dOThZUCpbgQllHEYdCA6HK4sz_u180UDrdkcRzRA0DWr1qbfg6jeetH9PaBgg/w400-h300/20230409_132948.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Sadly we had to get moving with still 70 miles to go. The scenery started to change. The villages and architecture reminding me less of Belgium and Holland, The orange tiled roofs had a more Mediterranean feel to them and so did the weather, as by now we'd all stripped down to short sleeved jerseys and shorts again. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The many villages we passed were like ghost towns. We'd hear the occasional sound of life coming from behind the shutters, or a barking dog behind a gate, but on the whole the buildings looked derelict and like crumbling memories of a different time. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">There were very few cars either, to interrupt the peaceful sound of birdsong. Craig did a long stint on the front which increased our speed and helped reduce the miles. We came to a halt at the base of a chalky gravel road the GPS route was directing us up. We debated if the rough path was worth the risk? Taking the gamble on the gravel was the best decision of the day, as the 'Strada Bianca' was a definite highlight. It took us up past the base of the huge wind turbines at the top of the hill, their giant blades ponderously creeping around in the warm air.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We struggled to find the Airbnb, spending a long time in the square directly beneath it's windows wondering how to get in! Once located we got changed and headed down the road to the one establishment still open, the local pizzeria, where we were served by a young English lad!! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I crashed out on the sofa bed with heavy legs that are really feeling the miles now. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiooB4TcdyHKuY5I6faMSa58t6QcLkF6fLFg8L7XAaoUKr92B4d8gyG4MZiH1WSJBMDoSRuM7odzbs2O5WCOJFwREwvllMVYtkep2hSiFVGlmb5wkl_JdxcniYIHn95-2UoIzrXLF8IAyphumGxKto4OnEUkr_gI5mv2hiImmTqGYmeyvHEGZqi5XJKqA/s2357/20230409_115657.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1762" data-original-width="2357" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiooB4TcdyHKuY5I6faMSa58t6QcLkF6fLFg8L7XAaoUKr92B4d8gyG4MZiH1WSJBMDoSRuM7odzbs2O5WCOJFwREwvllMVYtkep2hSiFVGlmb5wkl_JdxcniYIHn95-2UoIzrXLF8IAyphumGxKto4OnEUkr_gI5mv2hiImmTqGYmeyvHEGZqi5XJKqA/w400-h299/20230409_115657.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Day 4 : Chateauneuf-sur-Charente to Marmande - 107 miles</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Woke with my legs still feeling the effects of the previous days riding. I was also out of cereal which was the real disaster! Thinking that finding food would be just as tricky on Easter Monday as it had been the day before, we started late, making straight for the supermarket just around the corner having checked out it's opening times on the way back from the Pizzeria the evening before.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Cornflakes and milk purchased I quickly pulled a bowl and spoon from my bag and devoured them on the spot! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'd bought a pot of jam, ham and a baguette for lunch as well, which I strapped to my bags along with a fist of bananas! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We returned once more to the course of a disused railway for much of the day, so there were few significant gradients to conquer. The roads we did take were disserted and the route wound through many vineyards</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It was funny how I'd looked forward to today since it was a shorter day. Even though it was still 107 miles! It felt like my body was getting into the rhythm and routine of the trip however. The first few minutes of the morning were uncomfortable as my legs realised that, yes, we were doing this again! Once up to speed they just kept turning, which was lucky because on a flatter route like today they had little chance for a rest. The countdown quickly had less than a 100 miles to go which helped with the motivation!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The overnight stop was very unusual and I approached it in some trepidation. We were staying in a large wooden chalet in the hosts garden, but to my concern they had kindly offered to provide us with dinner, as there was little hope of there being anything open locally. Friends and family know I can be a little fussy with food and I obviously had visions of Frogs legs and asparagus! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The chalet was very unique, featuring a pool table and darts board amongst the US motorbike themed décor. We were greeted with welcome arms and settled down with bottles of wine and beer for a long conversation with our hosts using Google translate. We shared stories and had a good laugh before being left to our dinner of meats and pasta. It was delicious and I was first up for seconds!</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmAEor0H1WCr1hL5PEKSXrvXcxCdPbtMe7VqvA_FT-bPDVNrH_TFNSCo_y2IDALaDr9JTUZgDJKO9CfiGGCfxmq6ZOWQZQsLSOnrERweQGdzpACWAvG8khwkvUwvSle9Udu-Nc64waq-PVV4ZnoJrlpNhR0e7EfNiSuCexfBiYlZgU6P5Li1vUBBemPQ/s4624/20230410_124001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2084" data-original-width="4624" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmAEor0H1WCr1hL5PEKSXrvXcxCdPbtMe7VqvA_FT-bPDVNrH_TFNSCo_y2IDALaDr9JTUZgDJKO9CfiGGCfxmq6ZOWQZQsLSOnrERweQGdzpACWAvG8khwkvUwvSle9Udu-Nc64waq-PVV4ZnoJrlpNhR0e7EfNiSuCexfBiYlZgU6P5Li1vUBBemPQ/w640-h288/20230410_124001.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Day 5 : Marmande to Toulouse - 114 miles</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Today was very much a ride of two extremes. We started the day on peaceful country lanes and passed through some breath takingly stunning villages. Multicolored houses with wooden beams, stone cottages with purple wisteria climbing over the windows.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We were following a canal and as the sun shone the temperature climbed. It was the first day I started without my coat and by the afternoon it was properly warm! The buildings around us increased in number as we headed towards Toulouse, arriving in the rush hour. We didn't have to use the roads and fight with the cars, but the cycle lanes were just as busy and frenetic! Bikes piloted by people who knew better than us where they were going, zoomed in every direction. Some ridden a breakneck speed with no hands on the bars!</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqFVAgWqkhKSSTeCZ-NFJKdcXbUO-TCW56Y6Zgmey4kxVLr1G72illqD55iosHLsaxBqvEr00rgaC-DLdMvonWyUcWPP80Acm-JbJkVtwxq6854E2F7WgDcEM4FMg1qbPF1UuHLxicRBomfohzCuT-fcNQ-FI6UndKUkVHX6k_wqxueT2wF8rK5tZFVg/s4624/20230411_100035.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="2084" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqFVAgWqkhKSSTeCZ-NFJKdcXbUO-TCW56Y6Zgmey4kxVLr1G72illqD55iosHLsaxBqvEr00rgaC-DLdMvonWyUcWPP80Acm-JbJkVtwxq6854E2F7WgDcEM4FMg1qbPF1UuHLxicRBomfohzCuT-fcNQ-FI6UndKUkVHX6k_wqxueT2wF8rK5tZFVg/w180-h400/20230411_100035.jpg" width="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji928As-LfoQ7Pc1PgE_TdlOXgFYQCS7CbR_BD9zxMFNeQAt7f1EsUfqayNl5wpnGz2hE1raXng0TEw6No3FNu3zYr4d0GB_QIQBkYBIMhZ3sksCvHyhhcwroA3wEESWxNsMAC5w1lEHRn3LyW_J5JHCEij9KfZ_-_z_clteb73ubUupm12qJAksgRmw/s4624/20230411_101350.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="2084" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji928As-LfoQ7Pc1PgE_TdlOXgFYQCS7CbR_BD9zxMFNeQAt7f1EsUfqayNl5wpnGz2hE1raXng0TEw6No3FNu3zYr4d0GB_QIQBkYBIMhZ3sksCvHyhhcwroA3wEESWxNsMAC5w1lEHRn3LyW_J5JHCEij9KfZ_-_z_clteb73ubUupm12qJAksgRmw/w180-h400/20230411_101350.jpg" width="180" /></span></a></div></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We weren't sure of the route and nearly got split up a few times as patience at the end of a long day grew thin with fatigue. Eventually we found the correct apartment block and luckily we were on the ground floor. We showered and quickly set off in search of food. I think several of us had burgers on our minds, but we found another pizzeria and opted for meaty options! While the others waited I went in search of a supermarket to buy some more breakfast. It was a successful trip although I did get shouted at by a security guard for presumably being somewhere I shouldn't have been. "Anglais" I said and walked on!</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The day had been long but quite easy. We had all ridden thinking about tomorrow and the ride up into the Pyrenees.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Day 6 : Toulouse to La Molina 122 miles</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Today was the day we'd all had on our minds since Nigel first shared the route 4 or 5 months previously. The longest in terms of distance and with the best part of 3000 meters of climbing. None of us wanted to finish what was going to be a very long day, in the dark. So we set off nice and early. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">For the first few hours everything was great. I got very excited when the snow capped mountains first appeared on the horizon and they continued to grow ever larger, pedal stroke by pedal stroke. As we approached the foot hills the first climb was probably the steepest of the entire journey. A proper 20% gradient that forced us to burn some matches that we'd been hoping to save until later in the day.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We stopped in Froix for lunch in another Carrefour carpark. Surrounded by mountains the weather looked ominous but the rain still held off. However, we added some layers in preparation for colder temperatures at altitude.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The road turned permanently upwards and we began the climb towards the pass at Puymorens. Still full of excitement I rode away from the others, feeling strong and keen to get into the hills. The road however was a little disappointing. After all the lanes we'd ridden getting here, we found ourselves on quite a major highway with cars and lorries thundering past.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-vnFV4Ii5NZCGqE6l21uAvEWuoE08NSKg0mHSk4sMKn32XXu955qrgA-WRpzM1GvSomo-0OJX-H93y48Rvd9DFwF9SWqDEHIxMWH1hJgfgL-vv_Xy-4uSI-Cz1G_KUtVm5PVEktDqI81Tt5b4j-Zbn1s5dji9bZR8Tu9T_T9RmBJLHpC2jmAxLwwKRA/s2048/IMG-20230416-WA0152.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-vnFV4Ii5NZCGqE6l21uAvEWuoE08NSKg0mHSk4sMKn32XXu955qrgA-WRpzM1GvSomo-0OJX-H93y48Rvd9DFwF9SWqDEHIxMWH1hJgfgL-vv_Xy-4uSI-Cz1G_KUtVm5PVEktDqI81Tt5b4j-Zbn1s5dji9bZR8Tu9T_T9RmBJLHpC2jmAxLwwKRA/w400-h300/IMG-20230416-WA0152.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I stopped at the designated shop for a coffee and a refuel before the big effort up to the Col. Nigel had unfortunately chosen today to begin to not feel very well. The three of us quickly dropped him and then Craig zoomed off the front in an obvious attack! I chased after him eventually dragging Chris back onto Craig's wheel with me. We probably had 18 miles of climbing to do and were playing silly buggers pretending it was the Tour de France! Craig dropped to the back and I knew he'd soon come charging back past again in another attack. True enough he did and I let him go. However, the gap hung tantalizingly at about 500m and I felt compelled to make some more big efforts to close the gap. Chris was still with me and in the end I had to drop back on his wheel and refuel with gels from my jersey pockets. We kept rolling and eventually the three of us came back together anyway. We where now all so tired that we just ground our way upwards together. No more games now. We took turns setting the pace, which was sometimes challenging in the biting wind whistling up the valley. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">There were a few switch-backs towards the top and we could see Nigel just a few minutes behind. We discussed whether to wait and all reach the top together, but it was cold so we pushed on. Finally we reached the sign marking the 1915m summit. We posed for photos and then Nigel arrived and we posed for a few more. By now we were all freezing! Chris and I headed for a disused barn and I stripped off my damp sweaty clothes for a complete change of kit. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheU-CCVftcLIvjeqJ1nWpzs-Rr90fwHyC_xoqyvI6JBoTZ3NeJmIWWuk82C6N_TSg3_BJ_T-8oIZu3TRAt2ZTM0BEr57kkWmhuBuPGLb7zL2cs-PpLqCUGATHxt7ojkrl9msRb5o1LUDyrbOWLLZQmgqLKAdRyWErEzGVVjc-Fc4XfXzX2qYxDW0wZ_A/s2048/IMG-20230416-WA0172.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheU-CCVftcLIvjeqJ1nWpzs-Rr90fwHyC_xoqyvI6JBoTZ3NeJmIWWuk82C6N_TSg3_BJ_T-8oIZu3TRAt2ZTM0BEr57kkWmhuBuPGLb7zL2cs-PpLqCUGATHxt7ojkrl9msRb5o1LUDyrbOWLLZQmgqLKAdRyWErEzGVVjc-Fc4XfXzX2qYxDW0wZ_A/w640-h480/IMG-20230416-WA0172.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It helped but not a lot! As we rolled down the other side the shivering was so bad we could hardly control our bikes! I had to put my feet down and roll slowly with the brakes hard on to prevent shaking myself off the bike. As we lost height the temperature gradually improved and the wind reduced, but if I let off the brakes the speed increased and so did the windchill! At the first village we staggered into the inviting open doorway of a shop and were delighted to find they served coffee. We had two each, mainly just to extend the stay!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Once at the bottom we still had a lot of climbing up to La Molina and our overnight stay. By now we were cold and weary so stuck together until we reached the ski resort with its high rise apartment blocks. After a few text messages the landlady came out and took us to our 5th floor apartment. She assured us the restaurant down the road would open at 7pm. This was lucky because we'd eaten or ditched everything we'd had with us before the climb to reduce weight. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Wrapped up against the cold we set off down the road only to find a sign saying the restaurant owners were on holiday. The only other restaurant in town was also closed. Dispirited we started to trudge back up the road, resigned to a dinner of porridge and cereal. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Just then a couple came out of a nearby apartment block and Chris approached to ask if they had any pasta we could borrow or buy. Initially he turned away empty handed, but they later drove up behind us and offered a lift to the supermarket further up the mountain that would be closing in just a few minutes. So in the end we had some awful euro sausages and pasta for dinner, but it felt like a banquet after the fear of nothing at all at the end of a 9 hour day in the saddle!</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha6fJekznEvD9x7M6VlKM2kPf-GwSZiDMYGI6NKwKLQf1v94tZi3Cd_WqiRpg2WvwhrY4j5sPgNJ2r2fyKKLSmi2RH6Wpeg40V32X5ZhqCvaRtEtnz6H5e35_wayjgYdan91UTOdLCPot0p-rz7CKRYoTkNXthg2K92xQdqd60uatPwMSI73zqsx6_Og/s2048/IMG-20230416-WA0238.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha6fJekznEvD9x7M6VlKM2kPf-GwSZiDMYGI6NKwKLQf1v94tZi3Cd_WqiRpg2WvwhrY4j5sPgNJ2r2fyKKLSmi2RH6Wpeg40V32X5ZhqCvaRtEtnz6H5e35_wayjgYdan91UTOdLCPot0p-rz7CKRYoTkNXthg2K92xQdqd60uatPwMSI73zqsx6_Og/w640-h480/IMG-20230416-WA0238.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Day 7 : La Molina to Barcelona - 113 miles</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Stepping outside the apartment there was a crisp white covering on the ground. It had snowed, although not much more than a hard frost.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It was cold and I put hand warmers in my gloves. These plus the effort of climbing out of the village meant I was nice and cosy!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The road today was quiet and meandering, very unlike yesterday's busy thoroughfare. The air was still and silent, the sky was blue and the snow grew deeper as we rose up the valley. We were left in awe at the beauty and scale of the landscape we were pedaling through. Without doubt lifetime memories and one of the greatest cycling experiences of my life. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We scaled the top of the final climb knowing it was downhill now all the way to Barcelona. The descent was also much more fun than yesterday's. The sweeping curves put a smile on everyone's face as we swung down the mountain. The windchill did still bite, and we had to stop in the sunshine a few times to warm up. We found a coffee stop and sat taking in the mountain air, knowing only the final leg of our epic journey remained.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdDCmL0zyXMI0Ck3V3Xh9SbklJgGaSRwvchGMZm0q70qYV08j_DJ2gJQyMQnb0uQHWUm5uth8cZqzplwB9pko9ygXZUADLSu5Ln-2_4V4bL1sDi3M6ehSMyoGYViN98GKRy4G6MfMEIxHSJ0HsAmJ2Qvip3oV9dPCHAt5qz_sO0ZbvBsvFOK6dJZoBWQ/s2048/IMG-20230416-WA0249.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdDCmL0zyXMI0Ck3V3Xh9SbklJgGaSRwvchGMZm0q70qYV08j_DJ2gJQyMQnb0uQHWUm5uth8cZqzplwB9pko9ygXZUADLSu5Ln-2_4V4bL1sDi3M6ehSMyoGYViN98GKRy4G6MfMEIxHSJ0HsAmJ2Qvip3oV9dPCHAt5qz_sO0ZbvBsvFOK6dJZoBWQ/w640-h360/IMG-20230416-WA0249.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">However, it wasn't as easy as we thought! The cycle route into Barcelona that we intended to follow soon turned into a rough track suitable only for mountain bikes. I became very concerned that one of us would hit a major mechanical issue if we continued on our laden road bikes. The alternative was taking the two lane main road, with fast moving traffic and multiple tunnels, which we weren't even sure we were allowed to ride through. It was however the lesser of two evils, because progress on the path was so slow we'd never make Barcelona by night fall even if the bikes did hold together. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It took us quite some time to find a way onto the elevated main road and when we did I had visions of us being wiped out by an inattentive truck driver. I got so wound up I had a mini panic attack and had to sit down for a few minutes to recover when we finally were able to take a slip road onto a quieter route. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">With the end in sight we didn't stop again after lunch and our final supermarket baguette of the week! It was late afternoon as we stood on Barcelona beach with the setting sun glistening on the waves.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">After taking a photo opportunity at the iconic<span style="color: white;"> <span face="Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: black; font-size: 16px;">La Sagrada Familia, we had dinner at a street side restaurant to celebrate our achievement. </span></span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 16px;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 16px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhch2XZMflKvRXmptHa5Kt3NBk6rjwY4942A6trisROjkELgNDNnu9SVtERhTEzWK0G3zl4Y7R7MNLd3pc9CueHlqnhssi3ZGg1SrONcce3mpJgWvuO6RmR4SpG2RNHnOLELothYbbyYwoI-3Hsi6oGY--DxrCzNEywKvloZfsFuaiUnu5zaEQAa8BEmw/s1440/IMG_20230416_120817_545.jpg" style="background-color: black; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhch2XZMflKvRXmptHa5Kt3NBk6rjwY4942A6trisROjkELgNDNnu9SVtERhTEzWK0G3zl4Y7R7MNLd3pc9CueHlqnhssi3ZGg1SrONcce3mpJgWvuO6RmR4SpG2RNHnOLELothYbbyYwoI-3Hsi6oGY--DxrCzNEywKvloZfsFuaiUnu5zaEQAa8BEmw/w400-h320/IMG_20230416_120817_545.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 16px;"><br /><span>Our adventure wasn't quite over though. We intended to rough it at the airport for the night as our flight home was at 7am. Once we'd packed up our bikes, using tape and bags posted ahead and left at a local hotel for us to pick up, I was just settling down for some sleep when a grumpy lady in hi-vis told us the terminal building was closing! So we traipsed with our packed bikes to the next terminal and curled up on the cold marble floor. 2hrs later still wide awake we left Chris asleep with a cleaner mopping around him and headed back to reclaim our positions in the reopened terminal building and I at least got 30-60 minutes kip. </span></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: black; font-family: verdana;">At 4am we queued to check-in the bikes only to be told we'd need to take them to the other terminal. So we retraced the now familiar 10 minute walk yet again. What followed was a weird experience where eventually we were invited behind the check-in desks where all the suitcases were whizzing around on conveyors. Three bikes went through the oversized luggage scanner, but Chris's didn't fit. It might if we could have lowered his saddle, but the tools had already gone through on the previous bikes. In the end Chris practically went through the scanner with the bike, while somebody pulled from the other side! All this faffing around meant we went straight to the departure gate without any breakfast.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: black; font-family: verdana;">So it was our journey was at an end. The training we had all put in paid dividends. Nobody struggled and I am proud that we cycled the entire week together, without I believe anybody feeling badly held up or like they were the weakest link. The months of preparation meant we were able to make the most of the experience, appreciate the scenery and take in the journey as we cycled across France, creating life long memories.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-70600579269535629442023-04-03T13:28:00.009-07:002023-09-04T14:17:28.596-07:00Cycle to Barcelona the Final Countdown<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">There are just a few days to go now until we leave for Barcelona. All the prep is done, all that is left is to rest and check the packing.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The bike is fully prepped and gleaming ready for departure. At the weekend after the deepest clean it's had for years, I fitted a new chain, cassette and cabling for silky smooth shifting. The brake pads were replaced in expectation of the long final Pyrenean decent into Spain. During the previous week the rear wheel and the Eggbeater pedal bearings have been replaced and I've overhauled the headset. The finishing touch was a brand new set of Pirelli P-Zero Race TLR 28mm tyres. Throwing a leg over the Scultura this afternoon, it flew up the road, as the gears were purring contentedly beneath me. Seems a shame to weigh it down with all my bikepacking clobber!</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk4JeB-7-9xxzgM1r_65AOwh3NZH5kFGiXFilPP3QKjMcOMXfFen_BzJ3bQ4H1jr__0BsjOrDotu0e55XTjQFQvVDpyl_CP4NLFp977lTtNdBXKRnB7AsW7w3LniQfm9qxui2CWYZtG6r6GL6c1cH4XJnco9xevbNB9LwdXS4Pc99NTej52cRfTRysIg/s2749/20230329_131833.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2084" data-original-width="2749" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk4JeB-7-9xxzgM1r_65AOwh3NZH5kFGiXFilPP3QKjMcOMXfFen_BzJ3bQ4H1jr__0BsjOrDotu0e55XTjQFQvVDpyl_CP4NLFp977lTtNdBXKRnB7AsW7w3LniQfm9qxui2CWYZtG6r6GL6c1cH4XJnco9xevbNB9LwdXS4Pc99NTej52cRfTRysIg/w640-h486/20230329_131833.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Towards the end of lastweek I had fitted all my storage bags for a trial ride with the team. The Topeak Backloader under the saddle was full of clothes and was supported by a Wishbone to stop it swaying from side to side. We've all bought a Wishbone and mounted the bottles on either side. I was initially concerned about having the weight of all that water so high on the bike, but actually it didn't feel unbalanced on the test ride. The Topeak Midloader sits inside the frame, stashed with all my food, which consists mainly of Clif bars and GO Gels. The bag hangs above my tool kit which is fitted to the seatpost bottle mount. In fact it rests on in slightly, causing the bag to gape slightly, so I do occasionally brush my knees against the material. It didn't really bother me on the test ride, but I'll see if I can eliminate it with clever packing or taping it together. On the top tube is a small bag for easy to reach nibbles and treats, while out front the bar bag houses everything else! Wash stuff, spares, chain lube, power leads and all the other small essentials you need for a week.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I've done all the training I can now. The last few weeks have been a bit frustrating, as the weather and life have meant I wasn't been able to finish off with one last big ride. It does mean I'll set off without having ridden 100 miles in training, causing a slight nagging doubt in my mind. On the other hand I did ride 1000 miles in March. In my many years of cycling it's the first time I've ever reached that milestone, and in fact the first time I've cleared 900 miles! The last time I topped 800 miles in a month was in the summer nine years ago, when I was regularly commuting 100-120 miles a week to Portsmouth, on top of my weekend social rides.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The truth is I've put in a lot of hard work, about as much as I could around my job, kids and family commitments. I lie in bed every night stressing about all the things that could go wrong; getting enough to eat, saddle sores, bonking and letting the team down, mechanical failures, the weather. I should instead be looking forward to a week with nothing to do but ride my bike and make memories.</span></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-21742168550399550812023-02-28T08:52:00.010-08:002023-02-28T09:33:24.103-08:00Cycle to Barcelona route finalised ! <p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Nigel has been pouring over Google maps making the finishing touches to our route to Barcelona. Now he has shared it with the rest of us, the trip feels <u>very</u> real. There are definitely butterflies in the stomach looking at the maps of the French towns and cities on route, some unknown and others vaguely familiar from school text books and years of watching the Tour de France. Dropping the little yellow man onto our route in Google Street View and taking a look around, it's very weird</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> to think I'll be there in just a few weeks time</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">What Nigel has done for us is link together the AirBnB bookings we have for each night. These were selected based on our original outline plan of 100 miles a day which was plotted in Komoot. Nigel has then tweaked it further adding food stops along the way, hunting out local Lidl or Carrefour supermarkets. As part of our trip is over the Easter weekend, we'll be relying on the major chain stores when local </span><span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">pâtisserie</span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> and other shops may be closed.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">There is no doubt the 110 miles a day is intimidating. To put it in perspective I averaged 116 miles and 8.5 hours cycling a WEEK over 2022 as a whole. We're going to be doing that a DAY in April! For seven days in a row!!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">In preparation for this challenge I have increased my training since Christmas and so far this year I'm averaging 11 hours a week, covering 160 miles! (I do a lot of mountain biking so mileages can be deceptive as you obviously don't go as fast or as far off-road.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Day 6 is looking especially EPIC! 124 miles climbing 3000m into the Pyrenees. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Also!: </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">The recent news of snow in Barcelona gives me the jitters with just 5 weeks to go. Imagine what the mountain passes will be like! </span><a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/av/world-europe-64791549"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-family: verdana;">Storm Juliette: Cold snap leaves Barcelona covered in snow - BBC News</span></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW8dxnex2qeeOYtwj49eGhh-FYKeAK84ZWBBKVApPxO3o7OyPT6KqgfwOiZ7tdE_KpAhKQqdYuLN2GfPpeWskkA30yCkMCv-WlzuoLQSgEOokpW2mTxm_Fih-YNkrNcI6814X5s95u_-zRfo4K9U8J8CmhMUFkU8qnQQDlyA8rQwyuiaOFCXltjj4Cbw/s463/Snow.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="463" height="339" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW8dxnex2qeeOYtwj49eGhh-FYKeAK84ZWBBKVApPxO3o7OyPT6KqgfwOiZ7tdE_KpAhKQqdYuLN2GfPpeWskkA30yCkMCv-WlzuoLQSgEOokpW2mTxm_Fih-YNkrNcI6814X5s95u_-zRfo4K9U8J8CmhMUFkU8qnQQDlyA8rQwyuiaOFCXltjj4Cbw/w400-h339/Snow.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Here is a day by day break down of the route (including ridewithgps.com links):</span></p><p><span style="color: #fcff01; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://ridewithgps.com/routes/42115497" target="_blank">Day 1: Caen to Laval</a> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0tFcE-7bhP6JXmW5eh1aysJnVccc7CijwwwEAfwWQ8L9_fi3Vc3gePeanqf3wdD4VN7CjOMDvW4DpRc6nwwX8RSQtX1K1ayl-lNN3wdWZCUE6NZ0xhHvtb831YPD_DEFuKt6TttPTE4z9J7nBtw4H6AkcvgvoZXGwnRZUPAAJbG_myjU-UKq2afB8Jw/s1871/Day%201.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1871" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0tFcE-7bhP6JXmW5eh1aysJnVccc7CijwwwEAfwWQ8L9_fi3Vc3gePeanqf3wdD4VN7CjOMDvW4DpRc6nwwX8RSQtX1K1ayl-lNN3wdWZCUE6NZ0xhHvtb831YPD_DEFuKt6TttPTE4z9J7nBtw4H6AkcvgvoZXGwnRZUPAAJbG_myjU-UKq2afB8Jw/w640-h308/Day%201.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="color: #fcff01; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://ridewithgps.com/routes/42115663" target="_blank">Day 2: Laval to La Coudre</a></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYdRAWhu8UsOWAdPi8zEPNHTGd4nTzrEARKVDmp9e4NS8M_YS8-0y0VsjQZyTT2tqofWHRV5sadcHTVb3BoEc-lHg8tHKzXhw4QWAMpJEFJvBUkidRpaBz4OZO3Xr9Gchl2TTl0nc6bRNtMdpda2_zAcQlAI_6f2P-hVMWClWsOmec-vSZiX3hvPJ7MQ/s1869/Day%202.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="898" data-original-width="1869" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYdRAWhu8UsOWAdPi8zEPNHTGd4nTzrEARKVDmp9e4NS8M_YS8-0y0VsjQZyTT2tqofWHRV5sadcHTVb3BoEc-lHg8tHKzXhw4QWAMpJEFJvBUkidRpaBz4OZO3Xr9Gchl2TTl0nc6bRNtMdpda2_zAcQlAI_6f2P-hVMWClWsOmec-vSZiX3hvPJ7MQ/w640-h308/Day%202.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="color: #fcff01; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://ridewithgps.com/routes/42115668" target="_blank">Day 3: La Coudre to Chateauneuf-sur-Charente</a></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib7thmV5wk0ss-F2NQgeQVJrZVukQ-Y9ZtMR40K7Ghh3sW-16miHFftngddrMBEeohAG8KyjooFl08M5mj7018321x2RpjC3L5m6CIcOzB48-8bKlG3fL35PdWS7ZmuxXsSY2--KmmibIXdQfUr3Mx8Ze2YCIJ0ijTr9zrbpq0KkAAQFdyJLk-nbCxQQ/s1868/Day%203.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1868" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib7thmV5wk0ss-F2NQgeQVJrZVukQ-Y9ZtMR40K7Ghh3sW-16miHFftngddrMBEeohAG8KyjooFl08M5mj7018321x2RpjC3L5m6CIcOzB48-8bKlG3fL35PdWS7ZmuxXsSY2--KmmibIXdQfUr3Mx8Ze2YCIJ0ijTr9zrbpq0KkAAQFdyJLk-nbCxQQ/w640-h308/Day%203.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="color: #fcff01; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://ridewithgps.com/routes/42115671" target="_blank">Day 4: Chateauneuf-sur-Charente to Marmande</a></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipZQWAXs8CEcbA2GTmbByxhdfFuqHz4qZ5H4STC2xzjVmBeDaN72aBc6ghMjoKHhf3zNs3y7OrT7BBWL3mcpDGnI7xUxH_hJwCG0-Vb1RUEEoxygj1w7z0xK4ThvH4zla9QQs-SI8g1BaNRyLeBpSLHx1701g-oj-S-5CubnI7pUXtIQqK_ItJeQ74_w/s1869/Day%204.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="903" data-original-width="1869" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipZQWAXs8CEcbA2GTmbByxhdfFuqHz4qZ5H4STC2xzjVmBeDaN72aBc6ghMjoKHhf3zNs3y7OrT7BBWL3mcpDGnI7xUxH_hJwCG0-Vb1RUEEoxygj1w7z0xK4ThvH4zla9QQs-SI8g1BaNRyLeBpSLHx1701g-oj-S-5CubnI7pUXtIQqK_ItJeQ74_w/w640-h310/Day%204.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="color: #fcff01; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://ridewithgps.com/routes/42115680" target="_blank">Day 5: Marmande to Toulouse</a></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpsPRL3ZmqwpjezuQo2ZL_nOs-AUXmCIv45_gVSkF0gT8Cn16u5uGLCZ8H1AVX5xkMfhtmaemRjpvZtygse6HBllzOkY3m91dE0hAner7Yk6a7uUQ_pgXkYnqboLfH_1czg0oEU3Pwdw40MUt17Gl-4hEr1sITH0GEaR79gGPUcZEV69_TNmudZN6eg/s1869/Day%205.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="1869" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpsPRL3ZmqwpjezuQo2ZL_nOs-AUXmCIv45_gVSkF0gT8Cn16u5uGLCZ8H1AVX5xkMfhtmaemRjpvZtygse6HBllzOkY3m91dE0hAner7Yk6a7uUQ_pgXkYnqboLfH_1czg0oEU3Pwdw40MUt17Gl-4hEr1sITH0GEaR79gGPUcZEV69_TNmudZN6eg/w640-h308/Day%205.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="color: #fcff01; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://ridewithgps.com/routes/42115715" target="_blank">Day 6: Toulouse to Alpe</a></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9F6PYyQr2IvxT6KohIIN1VoNgCrIgMPWaLPzL0DaaJ5ZX2wIwU9ixV49pIFP67hK8NJ5H6MuJ4JhjTF4tBP7HjqlyUFjhHPGq7Gkn0h4hAPTcZEtWX6i2JPCs3LneckGERbatf83PAhl7hNiStC1lMw6Pvnx0qBMA9_gHwKTJHj8b8jrAwb4xq0uGHA/s1867/Day%206.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1867" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9F6PYyQr2IvxT6KohIIN1VoNgCrIgMPWaLPzL0DaaJ5ZX2wIwU9ixV49pIFP67hK8NJ5H6MuJ4JhjTF4tBP7HjqlyUFjhHPGq7Gkn0h4hAPTcZEtWX6i2JPCs3LneckGERbatf83PAhl7hNiStC1lMw6Pvnx0qBMA9_gHwKTJHj8b8jrAwb4xq0uGHA/w640-h308/Day%206.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="color: #fcff01; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://ridewithgps.com/routes/42115724" target="_blank">Day 7: Alpe to Barcelona</a></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeVTBXIsq1hNF5wk5fyFgpursPGFgU59fAQ-XCYFINOzNMHx_XVVzYzjujR-OKqn1J82JWcKravqIeNIIFYa_iQZ7FkY9KlT7DFw-esXDj7d9QWemv7q7mX6bMVyXelgODVl3aJ7XN7c6yVNnZPp0uEVs-1lXkkVa7L-wVcY6GT1oqjooVketwSAxfQQ/s1868/Day%207.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="897" data-original-width="1868" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeVTBXIsq1hNF5wk5fyFgpursPGFgU59fAQ-XCYFINOzNMHx_XVVzYzjujR-OKqn1J82JWcKravqIeNIIFYa_iQZ7FkY9KlT7DFw-esXDj7d9QWemv7q7mX6bMVyXelgODVl3aJ7XN7c6yVNnZPp0uEVs-1lXkkVa7L-wVcY6GT1oqjooVketwSAxfQQ/w640-h308/Day%207.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-1107763346521101322023-02-21T07:26:00.007-08:002023-02-21T11:10:52.537-08:00Training not racing!<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgahEN2psUTQRgE3aqUiEXNqi0a4FVDfwJEIGJZAUMWomaobJlwOf4EUI0ABc87LdhzB-n15MDPSvNo6d6NfO-ZYPxo17TtkY3rY-ki2jiaZHI9nl6vrD_Y5OazqMJZ1LIcvfn9hFyu9iIJiSYhOetsoCqyY3sQj8OTd-GDVnmsWYzyJttFDRoSPfdWw/s1080/Screenshot_20230216_093225_Strava.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="802" data-original-width="1080" height="475" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgahEN2psUTQRgE3aqUiEXNqi0a4FVDfwJEIGJZAUMWomaobJlwOf4EUI0ABc87LdhzB-n15MDPSvNo6d6NfO-ZYPxo17TtkY3rY-ki2jiaZHI9nl6vrD_Y5OazqMJZ1LIcvfn9hFyu9iIJiSYhOetsoCqyY3sQj8OTd-GDVnmsWYzyJttFDRoSPfdWw/w640-h475/Screenshot_20230216_093225_Strava.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">There is no race report from the first XC of the season. Instead of racing at the Gorrick I was knocking out 70 miles on the road bike. Conditions were perfect for mountain biking too and I'll admit my heart yearned for the trails every time I passed a Bridleway signpost at the side of the road pointing off into a dry and inviting wood.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Since I lived at home with my parents I've always dreamt of just riding away from my front door and exploring Europe on my bike. My dream was to cycle to Monte Carlo, tackling some alpine climbs on the way South. I have a route planned from a year 2000 road atlas and about 15 years ago I even booked Ferry tickets, but fear of all the things that could go wrong (common sense) meant it never happened. Then family and kids did happen and the plans got filed at the bottom of my sock draw. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Occasionally I'd get out the plastic folder of the printed route and flick through it longingly. What I needed was a ride buddy (or two) to give me the confidence to know that if something did go wrong in the middle of nowhere there was somebody else there to help.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I shared my idea with Chris and Nigel 4 years ago when we were laying in our hotel room the night before we rode Chase The Sun. Without the Covid pandemic it might have happened the following year, but the idea again got moth balled. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Then a year ago Chris sent me a link to a story about a group that had cycled from the UK to Barcelona. It looked very appealing and reminiscent of my original plan. 100 miles a day for a week, with the Pyrenees to conquer before finishing on the Mediterranean coast.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Neither of us could do it that year as we already had family holidays planned, but we promised ourselves we would commit to book it in the Autumn. We enlisted Nigel again and got together in October and made our plans. That evening we booked the Ferry from Portsmouth and flights home from Barcelona for the following Easter, giving ourselves 6 months to prepare.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Since then there has been some preparation and we've enlisted Craig to join our band of brothers. However, this week was the first time we have all ridden together and with less than two months to go it's now beginning to feel very real!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm riding 10 hours a week and have put in two long rides (70+ miles) on the road bike. The others have completed a couple of century rides as part of their prep which I still haven't done. Which is playing on my mind slightly, so is the next monkey to get off my back. I have ridden every day since early January and I'm making an effort to put in back to back long rides on consecutive</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> days to get used to riding with fatigued legs.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyX09xvq1nCnp2qjcIl4QDrYqd3yiUMJlGiw3Hjg8lh9w2nFArUX_uDsR2xcCxwiCDoJnN3t3BcaG9NHHMXksCmGrY3e24sSB-gley7ff2FdnODiPcVlLu3gna4yXPvMAqUP1878jDBxSPY7JrjF_vkGbdSuV0_oPR5LEDvq90MlPVp4YgHgYikOxE6A/s1080/Screenshot_20230220_100142_Strava.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="806" data-original-width="1080" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyX09xvq1nCnp2qjcIl4QDrYqd3yiUMJlGiw3Hjg8lh9w2nFArUX_uDsR2xcCxwiCDoJnN3t3BcaG9NHHMXksCmGrY3e24sSB-gley7ff2FdnODiPcVlLu3gna4yXPvMAqUP1878jDBxSPY7JrjF_vkGbdSuV0_oPR5LEDvq90MlPVp4YgHgYikOxE6A/w640-h478/Screenshot_20230220_100142_Strava.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-1575400296840803062023-02-01T09:49:00.005-08:002023-02-02T11:21:49.081-08:00Brass Monkeys Round 3<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6Qh9Ke6ZGwUemmZBFwA-cw8Y7uAsgD2k89-K2Oqex-1QeUc5B3ZYlM15XC1t4Wc1_rj7bbFz-dn4wu0nFmkTmCq0RMXXBYQNWsSbHdHDIuXRwOTLVwBWe2f3FUlyvCUKhH-pzq2wMjdguo_ZTbwTMeJ9XoBO81Tk-Lkyyt0XAzOxXW-MkmnS8VRgWA/s1157/Screenshot_20230201_190919_YouTube.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="761" data-original-width="1157" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6Qh9Ke6ZGwUemmZBFwA-cw8Y7uAsgD2k89-K2Oqex-1QeUc5B3ZYlM15XC1t4Wc1_rj7bbFz-dn4wu0nFmkTmCq0RMXXBYQNWsSbHdHDIuXRwOTLVwBWe2f3FUlyvCUKhH-pzq2wMjdguo_ZTbwTMeJ9XoBO81Tk-Lkyyt0XAzOxXW-MkmnS8VRgWA/s320/Screenshot_20230201_190919_YouTube.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />Sorry Rob but the highlight of my race on Sunday was catching and passing the blue and red stripes of the national champions jersey. (Twice! - since his pitstop was quicker than mine!) Even if he was on a singlespeed it still felt good.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Sheer determination to get to the finish in appalling weather had seen me into the top ten at the previous race. This time however I was going to need some speed if I wanted a similar result. I threw caution to the wind and took no spares with me. Deciding to travel light and take the chance. I took the same attitude with clothing trying to save weight and drag. In my last blog I criticized riders I thought had under dressed for the conditions. That almost came back to haunt me when the un-forecast persistent drizzle started to soak through my clothes. Luckily the weather dried up before it became a serious issue for me. I'll admit however that back in the car at the end I had difficulty pulling socks onto the numb frozen stumps where my feet should have been!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">My result at the first round had been a big disappointment to me, but the points I'd earned at round 2 had placed me 11th in the series. I've regularly challenged for a top series position in previous years and if I could get myself into the top 10 overall this season that would be an achievement I could be proud of. So with that aim I had decided to go all in.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I started near the front of the pack instead of my usual policy of loitering mid-field. Historically I've used the midfield congestion to help pace myself early on, before moving forward as the race progresses. On Sunday I went for it right from the starting horn and bombed down the initial blisteringly fast descent. Elbows tangling dangerously with other riders as we fought for grip and for space on the sandy, potholed gravel fireroad.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The track was dry and grippy to start with, the drizzle added a slippery sheen to some sections, but overall the course was flat and fast. As I will tell anybody I need a good hill in a course to really make a difference so I had to make do with really attacking the couple of small short gradients that there were. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Like the first round I seemed to be completely missed by the commentary and so had no idea of my position during the race. All I knew was I felt really good, was eating went well and I needed only one pitstop on lap 4. I dug deeper as the 3rd hour drew on, passing riders, including the national single speed champ! I'd paced it well and was still able to push hard as I began the final lap. There was an open section where I could see a minute or two ahead and there was sadly nobody to chase. Equally glancing behind there was thankfully nobody chasing me either. So I was able to relax. Physically it had felt like a good race, I had same sort of feelings on the bike as previous years when I'd be in the top 5. So the news I'd finished 19th was like a punch in the gut.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Analysing my lap times when I got home, I can see the stamina is still there. I hadn't tired, all my lap times were within a minute of each other. Trouble is that they just weren't fast enough! Those I'm racing are several minutes quicker at the start and then they slow towards the end. Some I catch but others have built up a big enough margin that I can't reel them in. I need more speed! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It's not like the heyday of mountain biking, but there were the most entries I've seen at a XC race for years. Perhaps lured by the better weather some of those ahead of me hadn't competed in the previous races. This meant that when the points were tallied up for the 3 rounds I was 11th. Frustratingly close to my goal.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">However, I can't hide the fact that this winters 18th and 19th are two of my worse results in 13 years of Brass Monkeys races.</span></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-71168280685442370512023-01-25T10:19:00.000-08:002023-01-25T10:19:40.388-08:00Brass Monkeys Round 2 <p>I was disappointed with my result at the first round of the Brass Monkeys. I moped around the house with a face like a wet weekend when I got home, feeling generally demotivated about life. Historically I've raced in the top ten for over a decade and the reality of 18th actually came as a bit of a shock. I'd known my fitness wasn't where it has been and my weight was 4 or 5 kilos more than it used to be, but here was the stark evidence of my decline. </p><p>Round 2 was my first chance of redemption, but with Christmas in-between there hadn't been any time to make much difference to my physical form. In fact I'd only managed one long ride over 3 hours in the month since the previous race. I'd certainly not lost any weight either!</p><p>Conditions out on course were what you would describe as "Character Building"! The weather had been pretty grim for several days and although there was a momentary break in the rain for the start, we were soon subjected to a complete soaking. I had a sinking feeling off the start as I watched guys I'd hope to be racing disappear ahead of me. However, I knew it would be a day of attrition. </p><p>As the laps wound by conditions got worse and worse. It was so slippery the rear wheel fishtailed left and right and steering was like a constant controlled accident! It was physically hard going too, gloopy trails and soaking clothes sapping my strength. I plodded on, not really racing, nursing the bike all the time, knowing that making it to the finish line was going to be an achievement. </p><p>I'd seen people in shorts and a standard jersey on the start line. A brave decision anyway in January but surely bonkers if you are cycling for 4 hours in the rain and a blustery northerly wind. Experience had told me I needed to wrap up, so I wasn't initially affected by the windchill inside my waterproof jacket, leggings and overshoes. Eventually however the water leaked in. Trickling down my legs into my shoes and down my neck and inside my jacket. As it did my core temperature began to drop.</p><p>For the last lap it decided to totally piss it down! The big fat drops hammered on my helmet and the trail turned to porridge, oozing under the tyres and offering even less grip. Although I'd been as economical with the brakes as I could, the combination of wet sand and mud meant I now had no real way of slowing the bike down. Luckily I wasn't building up much speed anyway as I forged an furrow through the sludge in front of me. My vision started to black out with the effort, I didn't care about anything but reaching the car and putting on some dry clothes.</p><p>Then I crossed the line in 10th and realised I really did care. With the euphoria of finishing, and the exhaustion I actually shed a tear when they announced my position! In my age group only 28 people made it to the finish. I'd used experience and sheer bloody determination to get the result that I had wanted. Benracesbikes was back in the top 10!!</p><p><br /></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-86092691976308175262022-11-30T02:01:00.002-08:002022-11-30T02:03:54.899-08:00Brass Monkeys Round 1 - I've missed racing<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih7uzRi3hS-pjbH0C-GAT-SfZBWehUPOyCqX63ANVbVs_lzK0d_EDTLqxmyQpj5U7AeFLz1X77wvSCUzQQMsWcf3Q66vDnHJu1V21Gm1ojBZfkzDBdei5JKc_NB62959yJkVFzWZ_bMdknzwu6S9oeZTJSleMdKysLdIScaKPSK5IaG-VQgaNBvIQ6Jw/s1145/IMG_20221127_165650_135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1145" data-original-width="1145" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih7uzRi3hS-pjbH0C-GAT-SfZBWehUPOyCqX63ANVbVs_lzK0d_EDTLqxmyQpj5U7AeFLz1X77wvSCUzQQMsWcf3Q66vDnHJu1V21Gm1ojBZfkzDBdei5JKc_NB62959yJkVFzWZ_bMdknzwu6S9oeZTJSleMdKysLdIScaKPSK5IaG-VQgaNBvIQ6Jw/s320/IMG_20221127_165650_135.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">On Sunday I took part in what was only my third race of the year. Not great for a blog called Ben Races Bikes I admit! This is the lowest number of events I've entered in a calendar year since I began racing way back in 2003. I've ridden at least 5 races every year since then. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Sundays result of 18th was my worst for some time which perhaps shows a bit of rustiness. So why haven't I raced more?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">One factor is there are less XC races to enter. The reduction in the number of the local Gorrick events and cancellation of some of my annual regulars like the G100 and Brighton Big Dog is a factor. However the Southern XC Series is still going strong, but I didn't even bother with the Southern UK Championships this year. I think a large part of this is that I don't have anything to prove to myself any more. I know that if I train regularly I can be a competitive top 10 age group racer locally, but I'm never going to qualify for the Olympics! More importantly though, with two kids growing up fast it is harder to justify taking an entire day out of the weekend and having to pay for the privilege to do so. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I still love the buzz of racing however! It was great to be back between the tape on Sunday, pushing myself to the limit and challenging myself against those I was racing. The camaraderie of racing is also something that can't be replicated. After 4 hours flogging yourself trying to beat them I love the Adrenalin fuelled laughter and excited debrief amongst competitors afterwards as you all gather behind the finish line sharing stories of how your races went and how you could have finished 30 seconds quicker if only.....</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'd definitely missed it, so I'll certainly be aiming to race the remaining Brass Monkeys winter series. That should be 2 events by the end of January, lets see what the rest of 2023 holds in store! </span></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-23163894277760024002022-09-08T07:21:00.006-07:002022-09-08T07:24:08.396-07:00My new ride - Specialized S-Works Epic Evo<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> After more than 10 years riding hardtails I've made the switch to a full-susser. The last time I had squish at both ends of my bike was when 26in wheels and double chainrings were still in style! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">When 29ers first appeared on the scene their bigger, better rolling wheels made full suspension redundant for the XC racing I was doing. The bike was lighter and the large diameter rubber rolled over roots and rocks without needing 100mm of extra travel in the frame. I also love the purity and lightweight nimbleness of a hard tail, giving a telepathic feel and connection with the terrain beneath you. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The geometry of 29er's progressed and the technology too making a full-suss 29er the most common bike out on the trails and at races. Still I stayed loyal through three generations of S-Works hardtails. So why the change now? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The marketing says that bikes need to be more "capable" for todays riding, but that isn't true for me. I'm still riding the same trails I always have and the race courses aren't so challenging that I've ever felt uncomfortable on a hardtail, even without a dropper post.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The truth is age has caught up with me. Gone is the confidence of youth when I used to plough over roots as fast as I dared. A bit of my brain now wants a slightly larger margin of error, which I hope the suspension will provide. Riding with friends I can see I'm loosing ground when the trail gets choppy, and in races I'm unable to hold the wheel ahead when there are lots of roots to navigate. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Also my worn out body needs the comfort. The long training rides preparing for and then riding the South Downs Double ruined my back. I've never had problems in this area before, but this year has seen months when I've been unable to sit down comfortably in a chair.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">So here she is my new Epic Evo.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhbOuc-Vne3tQB8GIU_e0DIXM54DX_0ki9t6b0zremUmIcC_zveaRNGksqoanGF9qEcnPmTfXzrTo3FKYSIXRZAUPYUswUckeuWFNOp9GUKV-NponjLZmsIZ81hdk8lqHnSCwVtAm4bzkylGsBRW2C_xeOWIYTE3MhxYRcXfaqVN0fbARobEacRPidzA/s3702/20220902_163834.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2083" data-original-width="3702" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhbOuc-Vne3tQB8GIU_e0DIXM54DX_0ki9t6b0zremUmIcC_zveaRNGksqoanGF9qEcnPmTfXzrTo3FKYSIXRZAUPYUswUckeuWFNOp9GUKV-NponjLZmsIZ81hdk8lqHnSCwVtAm4bzkylGsBRW2C_xeOWIYTE3MhxYRcXfaqVN0fbARobEacRPidzA/w640-h360/20220902_163834.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>I've gone on a slightly different path with the set-up. By using the frame with a 100mm Rock Shox SL fork, I've basically ended up with a standard XC race Epic but without the Brain. That's an intentional decision. Remembering</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> back when I did have suspension, I wasn't a fan of the Specialized Brain's automatic lock-out. I liked a suspension bike to feel like it had suspension! Undoubtedly the boffins at Specialized have developed the technology since then, but I also didn't want the hassle and the complexity. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">By fitting a 100mm fork, the head angle drops back a degree to the same 67.5 degrees as the race day Epic. It also drops the bottom bracket height to a few millimeters above the regular bike despite having 10mm more travel.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">So how does it ride? After two rides I love it! Riding along is so smooth it is like cheating. I admit it felt so different to start with that I actually stopped after 100 meters to check everything was tightened up! But after tuning the pressure there is almost no bob from the suspension when pedalling, but it smooths out the trail beautifully. Coming from years on a hardtail I do feel a bit disconnected from the ground. So I haven't really pushed my boundaries with the bike yet. The most noticeable benefit so far is taking a step up on a climb over a root or rock. There is much more traction as the rear wheel hugs the ground, plus there is the chance to stay seated.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The slacker head angle is what has actually taken the most getting used to. At the first slow speed tight turn through a gate onto the local disused airfield, it felt like I was steering one of those bendy buses you get at the airport. Slow and ponderous. Then when I reached some faster single track I was constantly turning in too late for all the corners.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">So some practice and more time in the saddle is needed, but the bike fit itself is perfect. It's taken me a while to get comfortable on new bikes previously, but I just slipped onto this bike like a silk glove. At 5ft 10" I'm exactly on the cusp between a Medium and Large according to the Specialized website. I've got a pretty average 32" inside leg measurement for somebody my height and there is absolutely no way I needed a large. I've fitted a 70mm stem to match how the XC Epic range is supplied from Spesh and feel like I'm sitting perfectly 'in' the bike, not perched on top, or too stretched out.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The weight? 9.8kg or 21.6lbs. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Let me get some more miles under my belt and I'll report back again.</span></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-31414604616932554972022-08-11T14:25:00.004-07:002022-08-12T01:58:08.176-07:00Farewell old friend<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghtmhjojsiPwXbqB2sgMKoYqYRW_nuDUcpMZ-R0RxjZZDPo_XoQNLIlLSS6YRjIfAexWo9ZL-mLhIX-2mV-iQkC9qytgnjYIXgszOiBlq2N1avqAAA-6LUdwtd03TZTcWv3aM3iqNUwk9dt02K8A8t3_CR1NO0QbDZDtFw3qB1iZvM7X_qqU5L8wcePg/s2014/20220809_160940.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2014" data-original-width="2014" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghtmhjojsiPwXbqB2sgMKoYqYRW_nuDUcpMZ-R0RxjZZDPo_XoQNLIlLSS6YRjIfAexWo9ZL-mLhIX-2mV-iQkC9qytgnjYIXgszOiBlq2N1avqAAA-6LUdwtd03TZTcWv3aM3iqNUwk9dt02K8A8t3_CR1NO0QbDZDtFw3qB1iZvM7X_qqU5L8wcePg/w640-h640/20220809_160940.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I love my Stumpjumper Hard Tail. Even after 12 years, if I'm riding on my own she is still the bike I'll choose. I've tried to replace her twice, but she's out lasted both replacements. She's the bike which is guaranteed to put a smile on my face every time I ride her.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">She's not the best bike I've owned, or the one on which I've had my best results, or completed my most epic ride. But we have spent more time together than any of my other two wheeled companions. From day one she fitted like a glove; light, fast and nimble she has been my perfect two wheeled partner.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Only the frame and the the front wheel remain of the original build from 2011. Back then parts for 29ers were hard to come by, in a world still dominated by what now seem like the comically small wheels we'd all been happily riding since the 1980's. At her first race I only saw one other 29er at the entire event. Imagine the ridicule of turning up on a 26er 'kids bike' at a race now a days! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">She had a special start. In 2010 I arranged a trip to New York for my wife and I just to pick her up. Specialized had decided that 29ers were too forward thinking for us Luddites in the UK.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">She instantly transformed my race results. It wasn't just because of the advantage that the larger wheels gave me, also psychologically it was the first time I'd had a top end bike and I really felt like I had a secret weapon as I towered over the opposition and their tiny wheels on the start line.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSvPf0GSTF3O7gzaOQ6OnoNH9RjDUnQQ3bIHc_VEU_dBeZbKsdIq3acbxk3rLJSVaarja0Wo6Y6IlsBRI5IERAlx1Dk-6wlYgA_fZE81Tr_-XYOwwKEEp6N2K2Mwg8leHD4Eb8Uk5sFf-IbMzf5FDJV_tzpq72n1HW_OudxXrfz9roLoQdHOH82kv0kw/s1202/Gorrick100.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1202" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSvPf0GSTF3O7gzaOQ6OnoNH9RjDUnQQ3bIHc_VEU_dBeZbKsdIq3acbxk3rLJSVaarja0Wo6Y6IlsBRI5IERAlx1Dk-6wlYgA_fZE81Tr_-XYOwwKEEp6N2K2Mwg8leHD4Eb8Uk5sFf-IbMzf5FDJV_tzpq72n1HW_OudxXrfz9roLoQdHOH82kv0kw/w640-h426/Gorrick100.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> An early race outing at the Gorrick 100 in 2011.<span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">After a few years as my race bike, she became my training bike, clocking up more miles than any other MTB I've owned. There was a stint as a commuter, which is when she got the rigid fork and that is how I like her best. The ride is so pure. Lean on the pedals and she leaps forward in response, urging me on, the ride quality actually pretty forgiving in the rough stuff. The excellently hidden external cable routing means maintenance is so much easier than her modern counterparts. Every time I'm trying to thread a cable or brake hose around the inside of a bottom bracket shell I wonder why all bikes aren't still like her.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGPY5l_Qy8r5repEEf1pPbSBYsF1LO4WkmCiXvEdgd6x6F0j0vwkPtO3Ld5N1TN9aj2ZQ3FeFGDpfsiWEQtdS7s4on0p-9J8BOgoVq_xEmJYiZcBoQ2eCIcLzLaQ39MeMRyExp0CFHg_ZQhlYl-PQyoSx2kp7xE5VxjoGPHu3mWpwGhlkSUZHhg5Rf4g/s2048/20200412_151030%5B1%5D.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGPY5l_Qy8r5repEEf1pPbSBYsF1LO4WkmCiXvEdgd6x6F0j0vwkPtO3Ld5N1TN9aj2ZQ3FeFGDpfsiWEQtdS7s4on0p-9J8BOgoVq_xEmJYiZcBoQ2eCIcLzLaQ39MeMRyExp0CFHg_ZQhlYl-PQyoSx2kp7xE5VxjoGPHu3mWpwGhlkSUZHhg5Rf4g/w640-h480/20200412_151030%5B1%5D.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Sadly though it is time for her to finally be retired. We've had the best time together and who's to say I won't build her up again, but right now the supply of hand-me-down components that fit her skinny non-boost, open drop out rear end and worn out press-fit bottom bracket shell are drying up. Bye Stumpy, it's been a blast!</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-10458519618537275012022-07-20T02:25:00.008-07:002022-07-22T23:39:35.885-07:00South Downs Way Double<p>Back in the Summer of 2019, long before the world had even heard of something called Covid, I had a crack at the South Downs Way Double. The challenge is to ride the length of the South Downs Way, there and back, in 24hrs. That's 200 miles off-road with 22,000ft of climbing. On that June day in 2019 I was defeated by the weather, when unforecast rain pushed in. I'd been riding for 15 hours and was heading into the night, so another 9 hours without any suitable clothing would have been foolish. The "Double" had been playing on my mind ever since.</p><p>2022 was the chance to get this monkey off my back. I picked a weekend around the summer equinox in June to maximise the daylight, I loaded my bike and hit the National trail as the sun was setting. 17 hours later battling rain and 40mph winds I was forced to bail again. </p><p>Now a full blown obsession, there was going to be a 3rd attempt and I wasn't going to wait another 3 years!</p><p>I had taken some lessons from my previous experiences. The most important obviously was to watch the weather forecast, but also I am not as fit now as I had been in 2019. Completing the ride in 24hrs was going to be a serious challenge. I'd be racing the clock the entire way.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7wBz3aMAZeoBc5cbQM-WWX_BZnCuUa-EilJKPniYBLVJQ6oI40PDcJHdxFYVaUimOF4dwpND-jurg0Ecujhx-BRvZhFirIfug0ZcjXMpcPCfmHwuSJ93fQ7w7bnRnS6erKnEvARG864_6U-Oy-4uxyms8pHsiqmkHuwlHcClgZzYFDNErE44HDD2JYA/s3264/20220717_055055.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7wBz3aMAZeoBc5cbQM-WWX_BZnCuUa-EilJKPniYBLVJQ6oI40PDcJHdxFYVaUimOF4dwpND-jurg0Ecujhx-BRvZhFirIfug0ZcjXMpcPCfmHwuSJ93fQ7w7bnRnS6erKnEvARG864_6U-Oy-4uxyms8pHsiqmkHuwlHcClgZzYFDNErE44HDD2JYA/w400-h300/20220717_055055.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>As before I started at Cocking, the nearest point on the South Downs Way to where I live in Chichester. Having tried different start times I decided I preferred to get a good nights sleep and ride out early in the morning. So at 6am, with the rising sun in my face, I set off East across the chalky ridge of hills called the South Downs. Why East? Two reasons. This is definitely the tougher part of the ride, with big climbs from almost sea level as you approach Eastbourne. Best therefore to get it done with fresher legs. Also, if all went to plan, I'd get back to Cocking at Sunset splitting the ride nicely into daylight and night sections, with a chance to re-kit myself at the car.</p><p>I'd chosen this Sunday as the forecast was for the recent bone dry weather to continue for days to come. There was actually a warning for high temperatures, but up on the grassy ridge line there was a comforting onshore breeze. Being a weekend I passed a lot of walkers, but at least this meant I got some help with a few of the many gates. The day progressed well, and I made it to Eastbourne in about the 8 hours I needed to keep my attempt on schedule. On the way I munched on bananas, fig rolls and peanut Clif Bars, but as I've also learnt my tastes change during the ride; from sweet to savoury. So in the afternoon I began to add slices of pizza to my diet as well as a packet of Hula Hoops! I don't know how many bottles of water I drank but it must be dozens. Given the heat warning I took two bottles. I could probably have got away with one, refilling at the regular taps, but if one tap had been out of order I would have struggled as each time I rolled up with two empty bidons on the bike.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBxEs98cFINvItuXqGq7rDDShee2NA98Blphj1m20cYmaWUo729aGB3vuSsQBWi0mS6gOiMYT7_6jJtbGi-ddyAaOFV2HAyfSXtJ-km-gWTofO8-iMyIu9mUB-80huG5qr6VA9Xmq-M6bJEnZkEUIUSikm4mVIAvqaRDviHv0Ug_r_rynlU41iFQIv4Q/s4624/20220717_104318.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2084" data-original-width="4624" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBxEs98cFINvItuXqGq7rDDShee2NA98Blphj1m20cYmaWUo729aGB3vuSsQBWi0mS6gOiMYT7_6jJtbGi-ddyAaOFV2HAyfSXtJ-km-gWTofO8-iMyIu9mUB-80huG5qr6VA9Xmq-M6bJEnZkEUIUSikm4mVIAvqaRDviHv0Ug_r_rynlU41iFQIv4Q/w640-h288/20220717_104318.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>I knew it was likely I'd get a puncture given the flinty nature of the ground. Weirdly I'd just been thinking about it as I heard the psst, psst, psst. I was close to Chanctonbury ring on the way back towards Cocking. Luckily a quick Dart sealed the hole and I probably lost only a minute or two before I was back on my way. </p><p>I'd had a headwind in the morning, but now heading West, with the wind on my back I felt a million dollars. I was now gaining time on schedule and feeling positive although obviously after 14 hours I was beginning to feel tired. Which is probably why I ended up on my face in the dust! It is funny how your mind has time to think "I don't want my attempt to end like this" as I flew through the air. I had been looking ahead as I approached what felt like the millionth gate. The front wheel got caught in a rut and I was thrown to the ground, in a dusty heap at the top of Amberley Mount. </p><p>I'd been racing the clock, so instinctively leapt back on and rolled down to the gate. Reaching for the brake, I found the lever was broken and it had also left a nice mark on my top tube where it had swung round. After a minute with the allen keys getting everything at least usable again and I rode down the almost vertical face of the hill to the road. I'd been cracking on and hadn't messaged anybody with my progress since Eastbourne so reached for my phone. It wasn't in my pocket!</p><p>What did I do now? My first thought was to leave it and crack on, but my family were using the Life360 app to monitor my progress. If I just left it, they'd think I'd died on the hillside and send out a search partly. Also as I started to think more rationally - it is my phone and all the things that go with it in a modern world. It seemed likely it had slipped out of my pocket during the fall, but that was right back at the very top of Amberley Mount! Of all the hills I wouldn't want to ride twice! I pedalled to the bottom of the steepest section and then ran/jogged/staggered up to the gate. I couldn't remember exactly where I had fallen, but luckily a bright orange gel wrapper marked the spot, and next to it there was my phone.</p><p>Crisis averted, but I'd lost over 20 minutes before I was back down at the road where I had first noticed my empty pocket. Full of frustration and anger I pushed on up the next few climbs past Bignor and was soon on familiar trails and descending back down to the car.</p><p>About 16 hours had passed and the sun had set, but the sky was still light enough for me to see what I was doing as I fitted my lights, restocked my bags and changed into fresh, warmer kit in preparation for the final night leg. I knew that if I rode it at the same speed as I had during my previous attempt I'd just squeak inside 24 hours, but previously I'd ridden the night leg first, I now had 120 miles in the legs and would certainly be slower. Wouldn't I?</p><p>I was still feeling good as I set off and feeling motivated. It wasn't until I reached the base of the grassy climb at Butser that I felt the first weakness hit me. From fairly close to the bottom I got off and walked. I was startled by the silhouette of two ladies with a telescope as I staggered to the top. Their outline was illuminated by a flash of lightning. Then came a roll of thunder and I felt the first large drops of summer rain on my back. It seemed all my attempts were cursed by bad luck with weather. A quick check of my phone said 0% chance of rain, so I hoped it was just an isolated shower and pushed on into the dark.</p><p>As I reached East Meon lightning kept illuminating the dark shapes of the hillside around me and the thunder grew menacingly loud. At the base of the climb I sheltered under a tree cursing my luck as it began to rain properly. How could I be this unlucky? Surely it is possible to get 24 hours in the UK without it raining? I had a choice but staying under the tree wasn't one of them and it was costing me time, so I got back in the saddle and rode on. The consistent drip, drip continued all the way to Winchester. Luckily the ground was so dry that it made little difference to the track beneath my wheels. </p><p>It wasn't until I reached the streets of the city that the heavens really opened, the rain beating on the tarmac and running down the sides of the road in torrents. I was soaked, but now only the homeward leg remained.</p><p>It wasn't cold at 16 degrees, but the night air had a chill and in my wet clothes I started to shiver. With chattering teeth, doubts began to enter my mind. Even if I did stop though, who'd I call at 3am and it would be at least an hour until they could get me. Having come this far, my best option was to rescue myself by getting back to the car. I tried to warm myself up by putting what little effort I had left into the climbs, but my body temperature would plummet again on the way back down the other side.</p><p>The gates were the worst part. Having to stop, unclip and unfold my tired body to walk through, close the latch them and then remount. Arrgh! I kept thinking to myself I should have left them all open on the way out, as I'm sure nobody had gone through them since I had earlier in the night!</p><p>Eventually I forgot about the cold. I think this was largely physiological, because I started to realise I was going to make it! The sky lightened and the sun was in the sky as I hit the final major uphill section. I was riding familiar trails again and knew I would be back by 6am even if I had to walk it, but I didn't! I'll admit I was struggling to stay awake for those last few miles. The head was nodding, as I suddenly came round with a jolt. Luckily I stayed on the bike and was fully focused for the final plunge down to the car, stopping the clock at 23hrs 30min 25sec. I'd done it!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXtw6WpPvgBSllc9rDV93GrcHA37TZzpN7_XwPDr5yQjZoIJUJwSvoXxgaFsQN8wq4f1lnwnXws0xoacwb0ff3ifg67BNOC0wBsc8OIz_hX2LVCvMYO4k08-8pek5XeWcbeXSIDIcKPu4PkV0HO-2g0mDKDO4-JDxt4qQSJ4DCdaFYyVNh5cbYpkgADA/s2537/20220718_123536.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1603" data-original-width="2537" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXtw6WpPvgBSllc9rDV93GrcHA37TZzpN7_XwPDr5yQjZoIJUJwSvoXxgaFsQN8wq4f1lnwnXws0xoacwb0ff3ifg67BNOC0wBsc8OIz_hX2LVCvMYO4k08-8pek5XeWcbeXSIDIcKPu4PkV0HO-2g0mDKDO4-JDxt4qQSJ4DCdaFYyVNh5cbYpkgADA/w640-h404/20220718_123536.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-43725981585029032932022-05-16T06:05:00.001-07:002022-05-16T06:22:57.066-07:00Torq In Your Sleep 2022<p>I've missed a couple of xc races because my focus has been on training for longer rides. Part of that was geared around entry in the 6 hour solo category at Torq In Your Sleep. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiyQ26zFQFzKkOQPsOaQq02qlSWgI8XwarVyee7QAxfrqYkheZhsBX0iCPhoKmdWLesN4EJwFnwZFp1-XJXVfcypApZDBvnHO_J-chuyivTT6NwXfoobkaknLhvhOirkVlJla1i8deCz7l09o9oNYxriipFl95DNZ_NP2xES9fncs8sImbHx-8WCvJu0A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="634" data-original-width="638" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiyQ26zFQFzKkOQPsOaQq02qlSWgI8XwarVyee7QAxfrqYkheZhsBX0iCPhoKmdWLesN4EJwFnwZFp1-XJXVfcypApZDBvnHO_J-chuyivTT6NwXfoobkaknLhvhOirkVlJla1i8deCz7l09o9oNYxriipFl95DNZ_NP2xES9fncs8sImbHx-8WCvJu0A" width="242" /></a></div><p>The last few months preparation had all gone to plan including a 5 hour ride along the South Downs Way a couple of weeks ago. Then the Sunday before the event I had been riding with other members of the Strada Wheels team when Clint took what looked like a fairly innocuous fall, except for the rocks near where he landed. Initially he carried on, but we should have guessed he was putting on a brave face when he decided to skip the coffee stop and head home. Next day we all received a scary photo from Clint of an extremely swollen hand. This meant that he was out of the race on Sunday and the 4 man team was now a rider short. Guess who got the call?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAI9IiwsKAkDrxkzZdKoGnzSaszvbWJ60TNvm8__ziHItn9ttQSjsWUJMVAxR2MCBfuqNVw_HvZ7C5BU_Dn8ineVVRklbkBNbz_YMomsiq-mwYYjhWK2NUPiOOji1-I4ZkCfdFX_vj3ruhdZosSl12VkizTp-k-J1QBU2jlGX9vky12KJs9i2rJFsTnw/s1535/IMG-20220510-WA0000.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1535" data-original-width="1535" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAI9IiwsKAkDrxkzZdKoGnzSaszvbWJ60TNvm8__ziHItn9ttQSjsWUJMVAxR2MCBfuqNVw_HvZ7C5BU_Dn8ineVVRklbkBNbz_YMomsiq-mwYYjhWK2NUPiOOji1-I4ZkCfdFX_vj3ruhdZosSl12VkizTp-k-J1QBU2jlGX9vky12KJs9i2rJFsTnw/s320/IMG-20220510-WA0000.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>So here I was on Tuesday morning and all that prep for a continuous 6 hour ride was thrown out. I was now looking at four or five 40 minute flat out sprints over a 12 hour race between Midday and Midnight. It was too late to starting tuning the fast twitch muscles, although the endurance training wouldn't be entirely wasted come the end of race day. What did change was the nutrition I'd need to take with me. There was now the need for decent recovery meals for between laps, instead of food I could eat on the go. I also required changes of clothes for the time between racing and lights for the laps after sunset.</p><p>The weather on Saturday couldn't have been better. Warm spring sunshine in a clear breezeless sky. I was struck with mild panic on the drive up as I realised I had left the meals I made the day before in the fridge at home! Once I'd calmed down, a short detour to M&S in Camberley resulted in a definite meal time upgrade!</p><p>When I arrived at the venue Darren and John already had the pop-up tent ready, close behind the flags and trade stands of the main arena. I unloaded my boxes of tools, clothing and food before Steve joined us and we set out on a reconnaissance lap of the course. The only time we'd get chance to ride together.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVUo-aKXc4RmIyO-2yJVcr9JXBCATg3L33gCnPav-CXO_9rfpmd2o2hOrvlOU8SxNGPAUxrjnGRjuSGSYAKCFtF_7toCHBSJajceWkc_NBXeWoFz-6BvOcWUWOVuSA5N6r5ucPKQOdY18eDpb3aJlG6HEtlfvtbmte5LxZwMxomGsF1bJjAzFTZmbfmg/s1440/IMG_20220515_113937_526.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVUo-aKXc4RmIyO-2yJVcr9JXBCATg3L33gCnPav-CXO_9rfpmd2o2hOrvlOU8SxNGPAUxrjnGRjuSGSYAKCFtF_7toCHBSJajceWkc_NBXeWoFz-6BvOcWUWOVuSA5N6r5ucPKQOdY18eDpb3aJlG6HEtlfvtbmte5LxZwMxomGsF1bJjAzFTZmbfmg/s320/IMG_20220515_113937_526.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>We then returned to the tent to plan the day, including the rider order. As the fastest rider Steve would go first. The idea being that he would be able to get us clear of the pack and prevent us being held up in traffic. I would be heading off 3rd, so we estimated my first lap would be around 1.20pm. We cheered Steve and the massive capacity field of riders away at Midday and then it was time for my lunch!</p><p>We headed back to the tent, nerves almost audibly jangling as the 3 of us nervously sat waiting for our races to get underway. Daz was up next and he headed down to the pen early as we didn't really know what lap times to expect. Steve however had done the job we'd hoped and was around the 5 or 6th rider to come into sight. As he ripped the convenient, stretchy team bracelet off his wrist to pass it over to Darren, it split and Daz was left with a dangling rubber worm to try and tuck away in a jersey pocket, before he powered away on the opening loop around the campsite.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn4-O4yrHlgYcz4gX_iAUmA-I6f8Xtucmg48a0MMcoZuQgP2CyF7YLRUhFuXk_vPGKXczc1WNMWX_EEGKaE1bBdTq_10zGOGM0eqEI0UtpNrIsjQNxr6HhckIn0kU-HHH7APZ7DHi3hrSXj5f8Ifx0yEuZtXA-d6PIkW63L-epQ9_z2lyC5QS2tIwOXg/s1440/IMG_20220515_113937_634.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn4-O4yrHlgYcz4gX_iAUmA-I6f8Xtucmg48a0MMcoZuQgP2CyF7YLRUhFuXk_vPGKXczc1WNMWX_EEGKaE1bBdTq_10zGOGM0eqEI0UtpNrIsjQNxr6HhckIn0kU-HHH7APZ7DHi3hrSXj5f8Ifx0yEuZtXA-d6PIkW63L-epQ9_z2lyC5QS2tIwOXg/s320/IMG_20220515_113937_634.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>I was out next. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as I sat in the camp chair watching the clock. 20 minutes to go I put on my kit, checked the bike for the millionth time, packed and repacked the spares in my back pocket then went back to the chair, feet dancing nervously up and down as I sat watching an empty course! Steve's lap had taken 35 minutes, we assumed the rest of us would be a few minutes slower.</p><p>10 minutes to go I finally got on the bike and went through my warm-up routine. Then with 5 minutes left I went back to the arena and entered the pen with half a dozen other riders all wide eyed and buzzing waiting for their own laps to start. One by one racers arrived, frantically handed over their wrist bands and their team mate dashed away. Then I could see Daz entering the field. I shouted so he would know where to stop, he passed me the broken band and I was off.</p><p>I was full to the eyeballs with adrenalin and I'm certain I started much too fast! I tore over the roots and through the woods like I was being chased by the devil! On any fireroad sections I put my head down and drained the battery before ducking back into the twists and turns beneath the trees. The course was rough and I was on my hard tail, undoubtedly not the fastest option on such a course. There were no really significant long uphill drags, just some short out of the saddle bursts required to clear some steeper gradients. The course was bone dry and dusty. So the corners were loose and sketchy, riders having to control their speed, searching for the grip available. There were 8 mile markers and for safety each section was named with a large picture board. 'Double Dip', Sunset Wood' and 'Bridge to Knowhere' just to name a few!</p><p>39 minutes after I started I handed over to Jon and went for a short cool down spin and stretch before collapsing in the tent. I felt so much better now my race was underway!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj25_CWc-IYqEUWmaMGh4BEVucK-nB_5LbYYekj_HseansnQWFP0eSAL1ryJDdJU23EF-41EUpmggAuly9dqcbdD5l0HX9aWXsUsVhpxIXgzcvPP6C6uMu4P2-t4a6hMJ_i_kLeCjT8v597ZTJmYRdSGZ249VKExpwqpG6-tT_v59GiN1XaZUCyh0aDA/s2084/20220514_104545.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2084" data-original-width="2084" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj25_CWc-IYqEUWmaMGh4BEVucK-nB_5LbYYekj_HseansnQWFP0eSAL1ryJDdJU23EF-41EUpmggAuly9dqcbdD5l0HX9aWXsUsVhpxIXgzcvPP6C6uMu4P2-t4a6hMJ_i_kLeCjT8v597ZTJmYRdSGZ249VKExpwqpG6-tT_v59GiN1XaZUCyh0aDA/s320/20220514_104545.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>The afternoon passed uneventfully. I lay in the grass as the sun shone down. Now we had a good idea of lap times we drew up a chart of when we each next needed to be in the pen and the cycle of recovery, warm-up and racing began. Once we'd all done a lap we checked the live leader board in the event marquee. We were 3rd with a few minutes gap in front and behind. Darren was frustrated that he'd gone the wrong way briefly on his first lap and to compound his dark mood a dog then pissed on his leg as he was standing looking at the timing screen!</p><p>My second lap was one of huge frustration. Darren handed over to me just after the entire 6 hour field had just completed their first lap. Therefore I quickly came upon long snakes of slower riders picking their way cautiously over technical obstacles on the course. I felt I had time to stop and do a crossword as I crawled along, trying to pick them off one by one. When I reached any wider sections I shouted out "Rider coming through" and sprinted past as many as I could, but that only got me up to the back of the next queue. It felt like I was hemorrhaging time. Aarrgh!</p><p>The sun was still warm in the sky as evening approached and the laps ticked by. My 3rd lap was joyous in comparison to the previous one. The few riders I caught let me straight past, and all those tyres had pushed the loose dust and stone off the racing line so you could be much more confident taking speed into the corners. On a high, I practically skipped up to the tent after my lap and when I got there my colleagues were also beaming because we'd moved up to 2nd place. All we knew at that point was that the leaders had fallen back, but were now 6 minutes behind us and chasing hard.</p><p>My 4th and potentially last lap was due to start just after 9pm. There was still some light in the sky as Darren handed over to me, but as soon as I got in amongst the trees it was pitch black. I knew the course by now, but it looked very different riding with a bar light and head torch. Some of the roots cast long shadows looking larger than they were and other obstacles seemed invisible until you were right upon them. I didn't know how to pace myself, all I knew was I was going slower. It was downright scary as times and as fast as I could go, but I worried I was losing time and the other team might make up all those minutes during my lap. So it was almost music to my years when I found I had lost only 30 seconds on that lap. </p><p>The gap yo-yo'd as different riders in each team completed their laps. However, the chasing team were generally faster, but we learnt that they had lost a rider due to an accident that had cost them the lead, so we hoped they would start tiring. Looking at the hours remaining Steve and Darren would both have to do a 5th lap, but Darren was spent and on the verge of cramp. We had a team meeting to consider who would do the extra lap. The others talked about us letting 2nd place go to the chasers because we'd still be safe on the podium in 3rd even if we didn't send out a final rider. I wasn't having that! </p><p>So it was that as 11pm approached I sat huddled in the tent trying to stay warm in the chill night air. Steve had gone out for his 5th and final lap to try and build me as big a time cushion as he could. The last time check back to the chasers was nearly 6 minutes, so I hoped he could stretch that out by another minute or hopefully more. I would be up against their fastest rider. In the (hopefully) very unlikely event that he did his fastest lap of the day that would mean I'd have 42 minutes to complete my lap. My last lap time in the dark had been 43 minutes, but surely I'd be slower, fatigue was setting in.</p><p>No warm-up this time. I started to strip off with just 5 minutes to go until we expected Steve in. We knew there was a chance that after their challenging day, if they saw me go out and if the gap was big enough the other team might not send out the final rider, settling for the consolation of the 3rd step of the podium. Therefore I took my phone with me, if it rang I would know they had called off the chase. Still, It would be several minutes until I knew, so I had to set off like my life depended on it! </p><p>The legs were heavy, but all that endurance training paid off as I pushed the pace for the first 4 miles. I could see light through the trees behind and worried it was my chaser and he was going to reel me in before the end of the lap. Then my phone buzzed!</p><p>I couldn't trust it wasn't just a coincidence. Perhaps it was just my Dad ringing to see how the race had gone. So I dug around and fished the phone out of my pocket just as it rang again. This time I answered and it was Steve. He told me we had it in the bag and just to head back. Euphoria! However, it was dark and I was in a strange wood, with no idea of the way back unless I followed the course. So it was that ten minutes before midnight I crossed the line to cheers and the announcement of "Strada Wheels finish 2nd in the Veteran Team category". Time for a fist pump and a shout to the stars! Despite relaxing after the call I obviously had happy legs and my final lap time would have been quick enough even if they had chased. What a great day it had been!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEyAsF2ufl5Lw10kfVzIBQKSAWCkVhbp8ZauTeGww5_KDSvgx4pdKCVCDtkCu7f3RVwdrmjKTwFz1toXM6ESfntN89sWOkeEydpuGEd09aAZ81N7w_wYd5RVy5kdwGKYxwmMRoyC07Q5usIPWF4iN6WWyqeiNQHGBr0lSdDVs5RGfRjAZIHC7iEXW-5Q/s1440/IMG_20220515_113533_687.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEyAsF2ufl5Lw10kfVzIBQKSAWCkVhbp8ZauTeGww5_KDSvgx4pdKCVCDtkCu7f3RVwdrmjKTwFz1toXM6ESfntN89sWOkeEydpuGEd09aAZ81N7w_wYd5RVy5kdwGKYxwmMRoyC07Q5usIPWF4iN6WWyqeiNQHGBr0lSdDVs5RGfRjAZIHC7iEXW-5Q/w400-h400/IMG_20220515_113533_687.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><br /><br /><p></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-32926465060375759252022-03-07T05:25:00.001-08:002022-03-07T05:33:48.825-08:00Gorrick Spring Classic Round 1 – Racing is back!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjm2112cIOasXQsDh0RgpO7EdnlxnGubqJFJVcgiWfYviv_ErG_VQMVwHO5a1I8HMPBv3CzKmIVPg6RTWPKhrTs6T-VtcHaSVt8NHZNE9qiFZ6q-3qDSo74OvQrZMQmOhz4OtVgMUepqKrxRHSw6P66tpPA6Dotu60z4skVGXZ3mabHMutuyth-YOtmsQ=s1861" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1861" data-original-width="1860" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjm2112cIOasXQsDh0RgpO7EdnlxnGubqJFJVcgiWfYviv_ErG_VQMVwHO5a1I8HMPBv3CzKmIVPg6RTWPKhrTs6T-VtcHaSVt8NHZNE9qiFZ6q-3qDSo74OvQrZMQmOhz4OtVgMUepqKrxRHSw6P66tpPA6Dotu60z4skVGXZ3mabHMutuyth-YOtmsQ=w400-h400" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;">It took a long time to feel like I was getting over the
effects of Covid, which I caught 3 months ago at the end of November. I missed
the entire winter race season feeling weak and unable to push hard on the
pedals for sustained efforts. Recovery was slow, and included some humbling social
rides, where the group had to repeatedly wait for me or change the planned route
to cut the ride short.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;">As we came into February the new race season was imminent,
but I still felt slow. I was barely averaging 15mph during solo training road
rides. This was on familiar routes where I’d normally expect to be doing 18mph or
closer to 20mph with a bit of effort. That was the trouble my body wasn’t able
to put in that extra “bit of effort”!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;">Nevertheless, I entered the first Gorrick Spring Classic. My
expectation in terms of the result was low, but I felt I needed to get back in
the saddle if I was to call myself a racer. There was the added motivation of
new team kit from Strada Handbuilt Wheels.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-KxzSoH47HeQFTpXJma90FzszSJKvmqLf6Z1tmkvfgf8EtgbKDSRMBdB9Vb8hFrjx8i-gNFXT1J9K9kKakWfrz5bfZ-80BhFten-yrrMedHVnPS7QTel48B2Pf17EdMxouMd_cnu5v8qj51SSKCA0gm6-HNihnWqKUeJOa_O2Af-DK0n6cNsaSSvy4g=s1860" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1860" data-original-width="1860" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-KxzSoH47HeQFTpXJma90FzszSJKvmqLf6Z1tmkvfgf8EtgbKDSRMBdB9Vb8hFrjx8i-gNFXT1J9K9kKakWfrz5bfZ-80BhFten-yrrMedHVnPS7QTel48B2Pf17EdMxouMd_cnu5v8qj51SSKCA0gm6-HNihnWqKUeJOa_O2Af-DK0n6cNsaSSvy4g=w400-h400" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;">Rows of cars glinted in the dappled sunlight coming through
the trees as I rolled into the carpark at Highlands farm near Deepcut. Post
pandemic the race numbers seem to be on the rise which is fantastic to see. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;">There was an amusing moment on the start line when nobody
took up an empty slot on the front row! From the security of row two I had a
good get away as we plunged down a wide fireroad and then up into the woods and
the beginning of the serpentine singletrack. I tried to count those ahead to
gauge my position and guessed I was about 7<sup>th</sup> or 8<sup>th</sup>. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;">The pace was hot as we swept up and down, swinging left and
right kicking up the dry loamy soil. Since I got my new wheels I’ve been
experimenting with ever lower and lower tyre pressures. On my pump at least, at
this event I was running 10psi in the front and 15psi in the back. On the road
it feels terrible, like two flat tyres, but once on the loose soil and tangle of
roots that make up a traditional Gorrick XC course it all comes together. I ride a hardtail and the low pressure at the
back increases traction and the comfort, while up front the soft tyre allows me
to hunt out grip in the corners. The new wide 30mm rims stop the tyre from deforming
and squirming, although there were a few scary bangs and nervous moments when one
of the shiny new carbon rims struck a root. Thankfully, the 2.35in Fast Trak
tyres held pressure without ‘burping’ their contents.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;">I was keen to stay in the top ten and fought hard to hold my
place in the group and make sure none of the riders in the long line behind snuck
past. Then as the first lap wound on, despite the pace I felt I could go
faster. It was hard to find somewhere to pass so I had to just stay as close as
possible to the rider in front and wait for a moment to pounce. My strength is
the climbs so this is where I took my opportunity to pass one and then a second
rider. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;">Behind me two other riders followed me past and we crossed
the line to complete the first of the three laps in a tight nose to tail battle.
As I mentioned there weren’t many passing places so it was key to defend these
critical areas. Charging hard out of the corner before any wider section of the
trail and defending the inside line as we turned in again. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;">This is how I rode the entire second lap trying to recover
on the tighter sections where passing was impossible. We caught and passed some
other riders, but those behind stayed glued to my wheel as the three of us
crossed the line again. Despite my strength on the climbs this was actually
where the rider directly behind was able to apply the most pressure, which made
them especially painful!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;">Twice we caught unobservant riders who I presume were practicing
the course before their event in the afternoon. On both occasions as they came
into sight ahead, the rider was off their bike negotiating a tricky technical
section on foot. Despite my loud shout of, “Riders!” they then decided to remount their bike instead of simply stepping to the side. In both cases I had no choice but to come
to a complete halt right in the middle of the tough section of trail they had
just struggled to navigate. The first time it was nerve-racking because I
worried the riders behind would use the opportunity to find a way by. The
second time I was exceptionally frustrated. I’d just put in a really big effort
to try and open a gap on those shadowing me from behind, who immediately closed
straight back up. I was a beginner once, but I feel have always gone out of my
way to prevent holding up faster racing riders. There is nothing worse than
fighting hard to win a small gap on your pursuers only to have to give it all away
because of somebody elses lack of observation. I guess that it is all part of
racing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;">As the last lap began I made a final concerted effort to
break away; digging deep, my legs screaming I was fighting off the burning of
stitch in my chest. It is an indication of how close the racing had been for the
previous two laps, that I considered a couple of bike lengths a success! It did
at least allow me to focus more on speed in the corners rather than having to
take a defensive line.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;">I finished 4<sup>th</sup> a healthy 8 seconds ahead of
the chasers who then came over to congratulate me and share tails of our race
long battle!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;">I was immensely proud with the result. I don’t
feel frustrated to miss the podium, 3<sup>rd</sup> place was over a minute up
the trail. After the last few months, to race competitively at the front end of
the field was hugely satisfying.</span></span>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-26230083311788326922021-11-26T03:37:00.004-08:002021-11-26T03:38:04.106-08:00Covid disappointment<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I've been on the bike a lot in the past three weeks, enjoying more hours in the saddle than any when previously this year. Crunching through the autumn leaves, making the most of the dry Southdowns trails, as I built up to the Brass Monkeys winter series. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifoeXX7MuFBqiXNM7bYEfLXcSDd3jN7KFatl6d2HDT3aUnF9UwnX7sajHI2ndizmIdApVRjbjoYOjniUE93Wp05zzcqKYsQxXPKFcx3tCpe2xYj6pDehCh1vCj06abyb9hOzm1Rf1i1K9G/s2611/20211104_142849.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2611" data-original-width="1204" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifoeXX7MuFBqiXNM7bYEfLXcSDd3jN7KFatl6d2HDT3aUnF9UwnX7sajHI2ndizmIdApVRjbjoYOjniUE93Wp05zzcqKYsQxXPKFcx3tCpe2xYj6pDehCh1vCj06abyb9hOzm1Rf1i1K9G/w296-h640/20211104_142849.jpg" width="296" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">After a 4 hour ride on Sunday I was feeling physically well prepared. The bike was totally dialled and my order of SIS gels and Peanut Butter Cliff Bars had arrived ready to scoff during the races.</span><p></p><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I was going to take it easy in the week building up to the first race with just a couple of short rides planned, so I was refreshed and ready to go! This would be helped by the fact I was starting a new job on Monday that required me to be in the office 5 days a week. </span></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">After nearly two years working from home, getting up at 6.15 and spending the day in a busy office came as a bit of a culture shock. Then at Thursday lunch time I received the worrying news that I'd been in close contact with somebody in the office who had tested positive for Covid. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I took a lateral flow test immediately which was negative, but by the time I got home it felt like my head was in a vice and I was getting short of breath. Another lateral flow this time came back positive. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm now waiting for my PCR result, but I am really disappointed. The Brass Monkeys are great races to keep me focused on training through the winter months. I've also had some good series results, but this year will be the third in a row that I've been unable to compete in all the rounds and challenge for an overall series position. Gutted.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><p><br /></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6859163862174945772.post-30382658123777093972021-11-05T02:49:00.002-07:002021-11-05T08:48:49.061-07:00Gorrick Autumn Classic<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Arriving at Frimley I was still on a bit of a high after the surprise podium at my previous race. However, this week it was back to the shorter XCO (Cross Country Olympic) race format. After my warm-up lap it was clear the 3 lap race was going to be done and dusted in about an hour. Quite different to the 6 hour battle of endurance that had seen my recent success.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWNT_WuhmC0mVhOlayKafGmol6FCnzRx8_n74jAkcsFJBQqHAEMtaN_vi85N5VMvGxV_Hy-PwodHorUSA3lkbqbUxEbfB8KahNvvkco9Jc07oHeKiFkZ77dLVyd8uEOs7oGyXX3YHVLJhq/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="535" data-original-width="702" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWNT_WuhmC0mVhOlayKafGmol6FCnzRx8_n74jAkcsFJBQqHAEMtaN_vi85N5VMvGxV_Hy-PwodHorUSA3lkbqbUxEbfB8KahNvvkco9Jc07oHeKiFkZ77dLVyd8uEOs7oGyXX3YHVLJhq/w320-h244/image.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">The course was what we've come to expect at Highlands farm, comprising almost entirely of flowing singletrack. As I said in my last race report for the venue, brilliant fun for a Sunday social, but it can be frustrating when racing, due to the limited opportunities to pass. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">So it proved after the first mad 100m dash off the line. We all followed the leader in a long snake for the first 3 or 4 minutes. I could have, and would have liked to go faster, but we were all stuck in a fast moving convoy. Initially I didn't worry too much as everyone was still tight up to the wheel in front, but gradually the frustration grew as gaps started to form in the queue of riders ahead. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">A space started to open in front of the rider about 4 ahead of me in the snake. One by one the riders ahead slipped past until finally it was my turn. Trouble was the damage was done, this had spread us out and it was immensely hard and would take a massive amount of effort to close the gaps back down.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">In fact I rode 95% of the race stranded in 11th place with the same riders in front and behind. I've well documented my recent run of finishing just outside the top 10, so there was no lack of determination to catch the rider ahead. After 60 minutes the finish line was in sight, but about now my slow twitch muscles and diesel engine were just beginning to warm up! The guy in front had his family along for support and twice each lap they would lean over the tape and cheer him. As we passed them with only a minute or two of the race to go, I was closing in on his wheel. They shouted "Go, go Daddy" and " You've got him covered Rich!" In fact I <i>almost</i> felt bad for them when a few minutes later I saw their eager, expectant faces at the finish line and I was in front! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">So 10th place! Not a podium, but it is my first top ten XCO result since I started racing in the Veterans category 3 years ago. Which meant I drove home with a contented smile on my face.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It had been great to race, but I'd also really enjoyed meeting up with familiar faces before and after the racing was done. So now I'm not so sure about sitting out the next XCO race in a couple of weeks as I had originally planned. I had intended to focus on longer rides in preparation for the Brass Monkeys winter series that starts on the 28th November. I'll see how I feel, watch this space.</span></p><p> </p><p><br /></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14867505012161379160noreply@blogger.com0