Lara Day's blog leading up to PBP.
And now the big day has arrived 21st August 2011
The queue at the start in St Quentin. As I stood there I suddenly realised that the huge goal I had set myself and spent all those months focused on to the exclusion of all else had been simply to qualify and get to Paris. I had never actually set completing PBP itself as my target. As we rode out of the city in a huge peloton with crowds waving and cheering at us I felt like a fraud. I had done what I had set out to do, and I knew that never in a million years could I have turned round at the end of my 600 and ridden it again a second time. If I was going to fail then it made sense to cut out the pain and the struggle in the middle and ride back to the hotel. But it wasn't just about me anymore. While the goal and the drive to do it were my own, there were people who seemed to genuinely care about what I was doing. Many of them I had left behind in England to watch the progress from a website, but one of them (Simon) had rashly decided to ride it by my side to look after me despite the fact he could have done it much faster (and with more sleep) on his own. During the first 50km I fought an internal battle with myself, and eventually decided I owed it to everyone who had believed in me to give it my best shot. I would try to get a decent distance into the ride so I felt invested in finishing it and then see how I felt.
The first stage to Mortagne-au-Perche is 140km long, and by 90km my water bottles were empty because of how hot it had been waiting at the start. The lure of a cafe that stayed open late into the night for the riders was great. Having gone cold-caffeine-turkey for 2 weeks pre-PBP that cup of coffee was probably the best I have ever tasted in my life. I was able to keep up a good moving pace of 27kph for most of that stage. However by the time we reached Villaines-la-Juhel (222k) at about 6.30am the next morning I was virtually bonking. This control resembled a huge street party, and I am reliably informed there was live music playing in the street, but strangely I have no memory of this from either the outbound or return journeys. I can remember walking around in a daze looking for something to eat, and finding a bar of soap on a rope hanging near a hosepipe that reminded me of something my dad had in the 70's. It was the last soap I was to see anywhere for at least the next 400km.
Early morning both before and after dawn was the time of day that I suffered most during the ride, I got cold and my brain and body pretty much stopped working rendering me a useless jabbering wreck (well ok, more so than usual). We had already built up a decent 4 hour time buffer, but it needed to be more to get some sleep the following night. Riding through a second night without sleep would be seriously bad news. As we pressed on to Fougeres (311k) and then Tinteniac (364k) it seemed clear that the plan to get through controls in around 40-50 minutes just wasn't working. On a ride of this size with thousands of riders the controls themselves are huge, involving walking between bike parking areas and buildings for card stamping and then other buildings for eating, and then hunting for the 3 toilets that all 5000 riders are sharing, and queuing there too. Being female was actually a huge disadvantage in that respect. At one stage I rode for a staggering 50km looking for somewhere I could stop to pee and not be seen from the road, and there was nowhere.
Late on the second evening as we arrived at leudeac (449k) the weather suddenly started to turn. the sky went black, thunder and lightening started, and the heavens opened. We had a dilemma: It was actually a bit early to stop and sleep, because it was only 10pm and so if we took 4 hours sleep we would be setting off at 2am to ride one of the hilliest sections of the ride in the pitch dark and rain, and then potentially need to ride on for a further 24 hours before sleeping again. We had also really hoped to get to Carhaix at 525k to sleep, but in these conditions with me feeling so cold and tired that 76k could take most of the night. We decided to compromise and press on to the optional rest stop at St Nicholas-du-Pelem (493k) where we could sleep the most miserable cold hours of the wet night away. As we left Leudeac and begun the ascent up the hillside, everything was plunged into darkness as the power went down. Occasional flashes of lightening lit up the hills ahead giving me a very unwanted glimpse of the climbs to come. I had known PBP wasn't flat, but this reminded me of one of Ian Hennessy's audax's in Devon!
There were almost no cars on the road that night, but the standard of riding out there was appalling. It seemed to be de rigeur to ride slap bang down the white line in the middle of the road, at a speed that definitely needed overtaking, forcing me to spend most of my time riding on the wrong side of the road. I started to feel a bit manic from the tiredness and began haranguing the selfish riders for a while using my best French obscenities. After a while I realised a good proportion of them were American, but that might have been for the best really. At some point on this road Simon and I became separated. The surreal thunder, lightning and rain in the dark while tired led my mind into some dark places, and I slowly became convinced that something bad must have happened to him since he had been behind me and had not yet overtaken me. Finding his mobile off when I finally got a signal didn't do much to settle my nerves. Eventually the only riders out there seemed to be a group of Americans on the verge of losing their marbles. They shouted out to each other constantly and couldn't string a sentence together. A female one occasionally started singing until another told her to shut up. I thought I could see a UFO up the hill in front of me, it was silently approaching with lights all over it. I braced myself for the impact as it seemed to be taking up the whole width of the road and the lights were so bright it was blinding me, but suddenly I saw it was made up of perhaps 30 bikes. It was a peleton of vedettes (80 hour riders who had had an earlier start time) on their way back from Brest already.
I came up behind a rider who was moving slowly and very erratically and was afraid to pass him on either side because there was no response whatsoever when I spoke to him. Suddenly as another group of vedettes came towards us he veered to the left of the road, one leg hanging down with the foot off the pedal, and was swallowed up into the mass of lights. There were shouts but he reappeared out of the back of them still upright, and continued to meander around the road oblivious to the carnage he had nearly caused. I tried speaking to him in every language I knew (that took about 10 seconds) and could get no answer so eventually I took to riding a few feet behind him bitching at him like a fish wife, hoping that it would not be possible for him to fall asleep while I was doing this.
After a few miles I realised that if I continued at this slow pace for long my sleep buffer would disappear. As I left him behind alone in the dark I hoped that when he crashed it would be a soft landing into the grass and no one would get hurt. When I heard the terrible news in the morning that an American rider had been killed by a lorry during the night I was horrified. It turned out not to be the guy I had ridden with, but what kind of monster had I become that I had abandoned someone in that state on their own in the dark just to get to the next control quicker?
When I arrived at St Nic (493k) I was not in a very good place mentally. Simon was outside looking for me, neither of us had realised he had passed me at some point on the road. He wasn't functioning much better than me at that stage and had (in a confused state) forgotten that douche means shower and not bed in French, and had just wandered into the shower rooms demanding to know if anyone had seen a femme in there. The French volunteers had looked at him aghast and sadly shook their heads. The full hilarity of this was not to hit us until the following day.
The office managing the hundreds of army camp beds in the sports hall was a scene of utter chaos. The volunteers there spoke no English, and by that stage I spoke pretty much no English either. French was even more of a problem. Arm waving and jabbering at each other for about half an hour, they eventually came to the conclusion they didn't know if beds 607 and 608 were taken or not, but they thought maybe not so they would take us to them. My sense of humour got up and left the building at wasting half an hour of potential sleep time watching this ludicrous pantomime. Somewhere behind us in the queue for beds was Alex from Bristol who didn't seem very impressed either. Eventually we asked for a wake up call in 4 hours time and collapsed soaking wet into bed. I set my phone alarm too because I didn't entirely trust them. When they shook me awake what seemed like 5 minutes later I thought they had messed up, but a check of the phone revealed the horrible truth that it was actually time to get up and get on the road.
We had decided that rather than eat breakfast there, with only 32k to go to get to Carhaix we would quaff an energy gel and leave before we got too cold. I opened a new packet of free Wiggle Harribo. The rain had turned into a drizzle and we rolled into Carhaix before it was light. Initially after the sleep I had felt very very tired, but the daylight and Brest being only 93k away now gave me a lift. The Tuesday day section of the ride turned out to be one of the high points. We took time out to stop and take photos and chat to Fungus (Ray) on the bridge at Brest, and then bounced the control after card stamping to avoid a hideous queue for the worst food seen yet to stumble across a fantastic little restaurant around the corner for the best meal and coffees of the ride. I felt like I was temporarily rejoining the human race, and the bathroom actually had a toilet seat, soap and an air blade hand drier! We had made Brest (618k) in a shade under 40 hours, a bit slower than I would have liked due to faffage in controls not riding pace, but we had managed 4 hours sleep and a couple of cat naps and still had 3.5 hours in hand. I remembered the wise words of Drew Buck who had said that once you get to Brest, just turn on round and keep riding, those who stay too long sometimes don't make it back.
Simon and I at Brest:
By early evening we were back in Carhaix (703k), where one of the Baxters coaches we had come to France on was parked up with some of our stuff on. It was great to get a change of shorts and socks, and a 20 minute kip on the coach. We didn't stop at all at St Nic on the way back (it was a rest stop not a control) and carried on to Leudeac (782k). It is this section of the ride that is very blurry in my memory. I think it was Leudeac we slept for 3 hours at, but I'm not sure. When i arrived there I could see 3 of everything, and I was no longer able to eat any very solid food. For the rest of the ride I was to eat almost entirely soup and a bit of bread. Fortunately the controls did some very filling soups. The sports hall was very cold and drafty, even with a blanket it didn't stop cold air coming up through the bed from underneath and the sleep was not as good as the previous night's. Setting off I suffered from the same inability to thermo-regulate and get warm as I had previous early mornings, and it became a viscous circle of not being able to go quicker because my muscles were not working from the cold, but not able to get warm because I couldn't go quicker. Helen who is a doctor from YACF has since suggested that I have a high surface area to weight ratio meaning I get cold very easily, and have no insulation built in. I guess she must be right because few other people seemed to really find it cold.
By the time we got to Tinténiac (867k) I was approaching jabbering wreck stage again and I needed a cat nap on Simon's shoulder until the sun warmed me up a little. I had started to have some pain down the left side of my left calf in an area I didn't know I actually possessed any anatomical structures that could be painful. Worryingly I could hardly walk once I got off my bike. I took my first 2 vitamin I of the ride (ibuprofen). Setting off I realised that we now had very little time in hand, and we needed to either increase the pace a little or stop less. But it was the stops that were now keeping me going. A chance to sit down, nap for a few minutes and eat had become a huge luxury to look forward to for hours. As a small peleton of faster French riders came through (with no luggage and carbon framed bikes of course) I hopped onto one of their wheels and we sat with them averaging 27kph for the next 50k into Fougeres. I was surprised to find I could power up many of the rolling hills, and the riding was probably getting easier if anything and not harder. Despite not really being able to walk any more. I had read on YACF somewhere that one forumite planned to train for Brest-Paris by riding Paris-Brest. I felt like that was exactly what I had done. We lost the fast French peleton while stopped at the coach to get clean shorts in Fougeres (921k), but I felt like I was on a roll and for the first time I felt like I could actually finish the ride in time. There was only one more night to get through!
Arriving in Villaines-la-Juhel (1009k) there were again locals having a party in the street. The tricky bit about this control was that you had to park you bike on the main street and then walk up a steep path to the control building. My legs felt like wobbly jelly and it proved very difficult to get up there. Getting down again was even more of a problem. As we left at dusk the whole place seemed to take on an other-worldly aura. The other side of the barriers our bikes were parked up against was a large crowd, and it felt like they were watching me like a creature in a zoo. They watched intently as I put on arm warmers, leg warmers and gilet. When I put in my ipod ear buds they seemed to gasp in horror. Fearing a lynching I jumped on my bike (well, more like hobbled onto it) and rode out of there as fast as I could into the night to the sound of Status Quo. I discovered that the cure for the riders-in-the-middle-of-the-road syndrome was to sing loudly and tunelessly as I approached them from behind, causing them to pull over to the right in surprise and horror. As a general rule we were riding above the average speed of other riders on the road, and more often than not if I looked behind me during the ride I would realise I was towing a small group who were trying to hang on. The night of the epic singing when I looked behind I saw no one.
The Villaines to Mortagne-au-Perche (1090k) section is the lumpiest of the ride, and so we were expecting a long hard night. My body pretty much did what it was told (it shut up and kept pedalling, Jens Voigt style), but my BRANE had other plans. The previous day Simon had told a kind of joke about a bumble bee he had found dead in the snow in his garden one February when there had been a mild period followed by snow. Having come out of hibernation, been born, or whatever it is bees do in the spring it had thought to itself "oh bollocks" and dropped dead. Whilst under normal circumstances this might not seem particularly funny (especially for the bee), on that night it was totally hilarious, and at one stage I was laughing so much I couldn't steer in a straight line. I would then go quiet for a while and then suddenly start off laughing again. Now, a friend of ours from YACF 'Mr Larrington' had a bit of an episode in this same location on a previous PBP, where he was found in a confused state and hospitalised for several days utterly convinced he was the Major of Mortagne-au-Perche. Simon decided that there were probably 3 stages to that kind of insanity, and I was currently approaching Mortagne in about stage 2. Just the mention of the word 'bee' had me catatonic with laughter. Lest I suddenly decide I was Boris Johnson or something even worse, we decided to take a chance and sleep right up to our control closing time. This gave us less than 2 hours sleep there, but it was likely that come the dawn I would slow down anyway, and I had been fighting the dozies a lot for the past few hours.
Leaving Mortagne with only 140k to go but just the wrong side of the time limit it suddenly seemed like a really risky strategy. Simon remembered that only the first 20k or so were hilly then the terrain became very flat. We found a nice patisserie open in a village very early in the morning where we could eat a fresh warm pain au chocolat in the warm. The owner brought out plastic chairs for us to sit on. The locals looked very perplexed to see a line of dishevelled cyclists lining up to eat up all the stock at that time of the morning.
The flat section into Dreux was indeed flat, and Dreux lived up to it's name. It was so Dreux. The kamikaze drivers there reminded me of the ones in Bridgwater back home. At one stage riding alone on the flat when Simon had got ahead of me on some previous hill I looked behind me to see some 30 riders stretched out single file behind me. After some 30k they were still sitting there, with no one feeling inclined to take a turn on the front. I gradually slowed down and down to see what they would do. One by one they got the hump and had to overtake me and carry on, but one guy slowed right down to 8kph behind me then followed me across the road into the hedge where I planned to reapply chamois cream. I gave him the death stare and he rode off looking confused. Later on I realised that he had Schirmer's neck and couldn't hold his head up, so maybe that was why he seemed so desperate to stay on my wheel.
By the time we reached Dreux (1165k) we had over an hour back in hand. At the speed we were riding it would have been fairly easy to finish sub 88 hours. However I was harbouring a desire to join a secret society, ever since I had seen Damon Peacock in his hideously tie-died jersey. To qualify for membership of La Société Adrian Hands adrianhandssociety.com member list you have to do only one thing, finish PBP in the same or greater time (88:55) that Adrian did in 2003. Adrian died this year from the neurodegenerative disease that prevented him from finishing the ride in 2007, but his ethos of enjoying every minute of the ride and not going for the fastest time is inspiring. Simon had no similar desire to join this elite Société but kindly humoured me by joining me in wasting time sleeping in the grass on the last 30k to make sure we finished with just under the hour to spare.
I was delighted to see Tewdric who built my Sabbath for me in his garage last February on the final run into St Quentin (he had finished earlier and was now going back to join others for a drink). I rolled in at 1030km in 89h 06m and relaxed with a glass of wine on a grassy knoll that had been taken over by YACFers.
Since finishing the ride it has taken me much longer than I had thought to recover. The next day my legs and ankles swelled up massively where they remained for the following 2 days. I've been sleeping for over 12 hours a day and yet still feeling exhausted. All 5 of my toes on my right foot and the 2 biggest toes on my left foot are numb with occasional pins and needles. Similar to a lot of the finishers I developed a fluey cold that some people believe is the immune system reacting to what it's been through. Perhaps the worst of all is the loss of a purpose and goal in life, because I can no longer remember what I was thinking about and doing before I ever heard of PBP! I suspect that like the swollen ankles, this anticlimatic affliction will prove to be temporary.
Seething 600km Audax, 11 June 2011
Woohoo, what a ride!
The organisation was fantastic, I was amazed at the effort Keef, Sue, Chris S, Boab, bottlemasher, Harvey, Archie and all the other helpers put in to look after us so fantastically well. Thanks to all of them for selflessly giving up their weekend to make this ride so great.
This was my first 600 (following hot on the heels of my first 300 and 400 last month) and I made a few mistakes. Probably the worst was arriving pretty late on friday night (gone 11pm) then spending a while sorting out the tent and trying to get an internet connection to register for PBP (unsucessfully at this point). It was to be a weekend of being in no-signal areas so I spent the whole weekend incommunicado. I ended up getting about 5 hours sleep and rocking up for breakfast 10 minutes before the ride started at 6am which probably counts as one of my least organised audax starts!
And so suddenly we were off into the rain, with me starting near the back of the field until teethgrinder came past using a chainring the size of a dinner plate on his fixie. I latched onto his wheel fully expecting to be able to keep up for no more than a mile at most. As it turns out TG was to give me his wheel for the next 610km selflessly making the ride take longer and be much wetter than it would have been for him at the front of the field. The views were fantastic. We whizzed up the field, grabbed a quick banana at Crowfield and then were in Dunwich in an unfeasibly short amount of time (2.5 hours in hand already!). I got a text from simonp to say that he had reached somewhere with working mobile internet and done my PBP registration. Thanks Simon. From this point on I could stop worrying about that and focus on the task in hand of actually qualifying to get to Paris! We passed so many puncture repairs in progress that I wasn't sure whether to applaud my Durano Plus tyres or if my turn was yet to come. TG had one too at Dunwich beach.
A full english was scoffed and on we went. There was a river of slurry across the road at one point and I spotted it too late to drop back from a rider in front, and copped a good shit splattering. Just as I said 'oh shit' I heard similar from Polepole who unfortunatelyt for her at that point was directly behind me. I am still finding bits of ruminant poo on my bike and accessories. At that point I actually hoped it would rain to wash it off. Never do this, you might get what you asked for. On we went to Thornham Walks where boablet was definitely in charge of card stamping and checking and revealed that her mum does a lot of singing. Cake was discussed and it's exact location on the ride revealed. By this stage I was very much enjoying riding on probably the flattest terrain I have ever cycled on, but the speed and lack of freewheeling oportunities was starting to slighly tire me. Red Lodge at 203k was a very welcome sight, and served the most amazing food. I wanted to eat everything on the menu but since I had to pick one went for the rhubarb crumble and custard which really hit the spot. Fidgetbuzz had an epic bowl of rice pudding and ice cream. I would like to go and camp near this cafe at some stage and eat all of my meals there it was so good. A 9h 45m 200k beats my previous fastest one by over an hour. Were things going just too well?
I was expecting just a commerial receipt type control at Swaffham but instead we were greeted by Chris S's friendly control and a car roof covered in boxes of cake. I felt like I needed salt so chowed down a huge bag of mini cheddars and a packet of jelly tots while sitting on the tarmac. Multiple chavs were seen walking past with their prams. We made remarkably (for me) good time back to Seething at 10pmish and I clocked up my fastest ever 300 at 15h15m. Bottlemasher served the most deliciously tasty soup ever (I scoffed 2 bowls) and we were soon off out into the night to try to knock off the rest of the first 400 as early as possible. This is where I made my big mistake number 2, it was a clear sky and temperatures were plummetting. I had on my YACF SS and winter weight LS jersey with waterproof on top and leg warmers so those bits of me were fine. I really should have nipped across the field to the tent to get some long fingered gloves and replace my spud sandals with shoes for this leg. By the time we reached Garboldisham temperatures had plummetted to under 2C. I decided to try a 10 minute powernap on the concrete floor which was suprisingly comfortable compared to a Brooks at 360k. On awaking it was good to have the company of Fidgetbuzz again, and much hilarity ensued when as we left he decided to don his rain-legs for some extra insulation against the cold and the wind. TG's tales of epic rides kept us entertained through the quiet hours where the only traffic on the road was riders coming out the other way. The ones heading out to Garboldisham seemed considerably less cheerful than we were heading back to our tents to sleep. We were back at Seething at 4am and I was very pleased with a 22h 400k. The pre-ride tiredness was by now catching up with me somewhat and made worse by the extreme cold, so we decided to go tentwards for a nice kip and rendezvous at 8am for brekkie. It all seemed very under control. I discovered by telepathic intuition during the night that my mobile battery had died leaving me with no alarm. I somehow managed to sleep well whilst keeping an eye on the time on my Garmin. Next time I will pack a travel alarm clock!
The 4 hour sleep could have been a mistake, but it is hard to tell how well I would have coped with the final 200k without it.
Big Mistake number 3, it was gloriously sunny and warm in the morning. I left in shorts with a lightweight montane jacket in my bag and no leg warmers. What could possibly go wrong? In the event we set off with half an hour in hand to ride the last 200k, which should have been easy, right? Well somehow yesterdays fast flat runs and fairly light wind seemed to be replaced by much hillier terrain and stronger winds that always seemed to be in the wrong direction. Without any mobile signal I hadn't checked the weather forecast.
The ride out to Castle Acre at 468k seemed to go well, but I felt very hungry. We had a great sit down meal at the cafe there, it was the best stilton and brocolli quiche I've eaten in my life. The leg to Wells started to get tough. The wind was whipping up and it was starting to rain, plus the coast road was very rolling and I had to engage my granny ring for what was I think the first time on the ride. It was during this leg that it suddenly dawned on me that there was actually a possibility I might not be able to finish in time. That thought started to nag me more. I was getting slower, but the wind was getting stronger and we didn't now have much time in hand. I had a fantastic freshly caugh crab dish in the Wells cafe but service was slow since they cocked up the order so I ended up leaving a bit ahead of TG after topping up chamois cream with a monstrous amount.
I was about to reach my darkest hour. I had lost count of the number of tablets and timings of the vitamin I tablets I had taken so couldn't really take more. It was now properly raining heavily, we were riding into a massive blustery headwind, it was getting cold and my legs were disobeying my brane. I tried the Jens Voigt 'shut up legs' many times. I couldn't understand why I was bonking after having breakfast and 2 large meals. At the 500k point I had said 'I can't be doing this right because I am enjoying it'. By 540k I was saying 'ok, i'm not enjoying this any more'. By 550k I was saying 'it's cold, it's hammering down, theres a massive headwind, I'm in a whole world of pain and I'm cultivating my 1000 yard stare'. Steve replied 'yeah, good isn't it?' Cheesy
At one stage I had to stop because I needed to eat and could no longer manage to get in my bar bag for food while moving. I couldn't even hold the bike upright while standing. Teethgrinder's legendary Jelly Baby therapy literally saved me from cramped up muscles and a slow roadside death amongst the fallen roadkill rabbits and squirrels. I realised that riding along thinking I wasn't going to make it in time over and over again was not a very positive mantra.
The control at Harvey and Archie's house (well more in their garage since the rainfall was by now torrential) was a real relief, that hot cup of tea and flapjack made a real difference. We couldn't stay long as we only had an hour in hand and had the ferry yet to come.
With the end now in sight the last 44km didn't seem quite so hard as the previous 60 had. We were in pretty exposed terrain with no shelter from the wind and I realised that there was no way TG was any ordinary human being pushing a 95" gear uphill in those conditions. More Jelly Baby therapy was required. I fought to stay on his wheel, we didn't have to wait many minutes for the ferry, and found ourselves with over an hour and a half to do the last 13k. At this point TG toyed with the idea of us sneaking into the pub for a swift pint then rolling into the control at 9.58pm but we decided against since those waiting for us back in the hall might subsequently kill us instead of feed us. We dripped in at 9.17pm, far too close for comfort but oddly that ceases to matter from the second you hand over your brevet card. Chris S was cheerfully pedalling AUK 600k medals, and I just had to have one. It was great to see the other riders who had been out there with us in that weather had also arrived safely, and the lantern rouge came in not that far behind.
TG was hoping for left over pizza which was by this stage long since consumed, but there was loads of food and the soup was just as fantastic as the previous night's calling for second helpings and then rice pudding and fruit. Huge puddles were emanating from my shoes all over the floor and we were all totally soaked. I felt a mixture of elation at completing my first 600 and SR and slight trepidation at the fact that it looks like I am now definitely riding PBP. I have no idea how on earth I'm going to do that, but then I had no clue how I was going to get through this one either. Without the kindness and patience of Teethgrinder I don't think I would have made it. I really can't thank him enough. The ride was both easier and tougher than I had expected all at the same time but I would do it again in a heartbeat (just not this week eh).
I clocked up 29h12m moving time and 39h17m overall time. That means I spent a staggering total of 10 hours asleep or eating.
See you in Paris those who are going. Click here for the stats and map
Denmead 400K Audax, 14th May 2011.
In the early hours of Friday morning I was desperately fettling my bike to enable me to ride the Denmead. I seem to have done Something_Bad to my median nerve in my right hand (and also slightly in my left it turns out) after the Old Roads 300k last weekend. Despite resting and staying completely off the bike for a week (!!) my hand function was still very weak on Thursday, so off I popped to SJS cycles to buy some more bar tape and gel padding. I moved the hoods up about an inch and added more gel to the hoods themselves underneath the rubber covers in the hope of at least preventing further nerve damage. With my bars freshly re-wrapped I went on a final test ride on Friday to decide if I could attempt the Denmead or not. I found I could change up the cassette and down the chain rings but not the other way round with either hand. At all. There was no pain, just tingling and incredible weakness. This didn't look good. A 400k on one gear??
So off I went on Friday evening to stay in a Travelodge somewhere near Denmead. This should have been 7 miles from the start, but as I discovered as I left at 6.30am for a 7am start, the Travelodge is on the Eastbound carriageway and I had to drive an extra 16 miles just to turn round and come back again! At this point I wondered if someone was trying to tell me something about this ride! I arrived at bang on 7am at Pam's house for the start, most of the riders were already leaving
So off I went, knowing I might have to ride the entire 400k in fixie style. Unfortunately there was a headwind for the first 200k! This was hard going, and riding the first 100k in one gear was killing my legs. I started to get inventive and wondered if I could use any other part of my body to change gear. Initially I discovered that I could change up into the big chainring using my right hand reaching over to the left lever to pull it across. The nerve problem means I can't push thing, but I can still pull things. I then discovered I could reach over the bars and pull the levers inwards from the other side. Result To anyone watching I would look really weird, but this is how I rode the next 300k.
As I got to 185k the ride passed within yards of my house, so I popped home for a nice cup of tea and a half hour break. I knew the others would be climbing Shipham hill after descending the gorge, and with local knowledge I didn't plan to go that way. I arrived in Weston-super-mare at the 200k half way point and didn't see bikes around so assumed they must have already left. I fancied a McDonalds cheeseburger and coke so quickly grabbed that then on I went. My body is a
temple skip.
The good news is that as I turned to begin the route back to Denmead I now had a nice strong tailwind. I rode the next 100k in about 4 hours because of it! There was no one else at the next 24 hour garage control but they had a microwave for me to heat up a Ginsters cheese and onion slice and a coffee machine.
I rode on into the dark, and as midnight came and went found myself spying bus shelters and even phone boxes and finding them appealing! I had nearly 10 hours to ride only 90k so when I spotted the des res of all bus shelters I couldn't resist. It was stone built with a narrow doorway to offer shelter from the wind and had just enough room for me and the bike with a wooden bench seat against the wall. I crashed out using my spare socks and waterproof jacket as a pillow and had nearly 2 hours of quality kip! In the end it was the cold that woke me rather than my phone alarm. It was by then only 6C but felt even colder. There was only one thing for it, get warm cycling.
All kinds of wildlife tried to commit suicide under my wheels. I had the obligatory (wow)badger, a massive deer, a huge hare, various bunnies, a squirrel, a New Forest pony and several domestic felines.
As is often the way the lovely tail wind dropped to no wind at all overnight. By now I expected the whole field would have gone past me since I stopped so long. I arrived at the 356k 24 hour garage control and no one else was there. The cashier served me hot coffee and a selection of junk food through his hatch, he wasn't allowed to open the door when he's on his own. Leaning against the wall of the building felt slightly warming though. As I was about to leave 7 other riders arrived in various states. Charlie seemed to be having enormous trouble getting his leg back over his bike. None of them seemed very cheerful by this stage! I was met with comments of 'how did you get here so fast?'. I was even more perplexed to learn that none of them had had any sleep. I can only assume that the sleep did me good, because I was probably riding as fast at that point as I had early in the day. The final 45k seemed to take an awful long time (but I think it always does no matter what distance Audax I am riding) but I was done and dusted by 7am. 24 hours had been my target so I was more than happy with that, especially since I had half an hour at home and 2 hours sleep during the ride!
I am well chuffed I have done my first 400k, especially with an injury problem. I am a bit stiff now and I am realising I should have been even more generous with the Chamois cream. The great news is my hands are no no worse than they were at the start, so I think once the nerve has recovered my new hoods position will be a winner.
Many thanks to Pam for an excellent ride
Now I am going to watch the Giro and go to bed early.
Click here for route and stats
Old Roads 300K Audax, 7th May 2011.
Ohhhh my god what a ride!
Well I made it, allbeit not quite as fast as I would have liked, but there were reasons for this!
My meticulous planning the night before meant I could sleep well knowing that my bike and everything I would need were already in the car and all I had to do was jump out of bed into the clothes laid out. I've previously struggled to sleep before audaxes because my brain was going over the things I needed to do in the morning. So I was in bed by 9.30pm for a 4.15am alarm call.
Arriving at the start in good time my 'kitchen sink' packing was put to good use coming to the rescue of one rider's Garmin crisis. His route hadn't downloaded, and I was able to lend him a Garmin data cable to do it from the Tourist centre PC. At 6am we were off, and I made good time to the first control whilst being careful not to go off too fast. I had an hour in hand by the first control, and did the first 100k in 4.5 hours which for me is a personal best.
Ian H passed me on a big hill (he had left half an hour after everyone else) and I had to ask him 'who put this hill in the route?' As he passed Grin The 'things' popped in to the Barnstaple cafe to say hi. I hope thing1's knee gets better quickly, it was a shame they couldn't ride.
The leg from Barnstaple to Cheddar at 230k was very tough going with a head-wind all the way and most of the terrain was lumpy and very exposed. Some bird in South Molton shat on my arm from high altitude, but it was soon washed off by a rain shower. I was with Panoramix for part of this leg and I have to admit he did the lions share on the front, but eventually when I looked behind I couldn't see him on one of the ascents so I think he must have started to bonk.
At 4pm I had a text from Jaded saying there was going to be a shower at 5pm. At 5.01pm it started to rain. He is Mystic Meg AICMFP!
The most dim-witted motons of the ride were all to be found in Bridgwater and the surrounding area! I came into the Cheddar control with 2.5 hours in hand and ordered steak and chips. I was just leaving when 3 of the guys arrived. On the retrace back to Wedmore I was pleased to see Panoramix and Arthur also on their way.
After Cheddar the wind direction became more of a cross wind, and by 7pm it was whipping up a hoolie with the rain setting in for the rest of the day. My bike suddenly came to an involuntary halt as the back wheel didn't want to rotate any more. Initially I suspected a deflation but donning my Alpkit headtorch revealed there was a problem with the back brake. It seemed jammed on and wonky, and the cable outer has come out of it's little lug on the frame. I managed to free it off but the brake pad on one side looked considerably diminished and the brake itself pretty non functional. Stood in a soggy gateway in the pouring rain in the dark I decided that I just CBA to get out a multitool and start trying to fettle it, so off I went to do the last 60k with only a front brake working.
I drank coffee and ate chocolate sat amongst the barbeque charcoal on the forecourt of the 24 hour garage at Seavington St Michael and felt like a proper audaxer. The last 40k seemed to go on forever. On the ascent to Stockland the rain was so heavy there were rivers coming down the hill as I fought my way up it, and visibility was down to about 5 feet. It was probably a good job I couldn't see the summit or I would probably have lost the will to live, that climb goes on forever! Ian H later observed that it is longer some days that others! The descent into Honiton with only a front brake and potholes hidden in rivers all over the road was verging on the terrifying. I have never ridden down on the drops before but I had to to get enough braking leverage with my right hand only. At one steep bit I got off and walked facepalm
Finally, 315k later at 12.38am I squelched into the Awliscombe Inn to a warm welcome from the Landlord, Pat the spinoodle, Ian H, Elly, Pete (who appeared to be falling asleep), and one rider (in true audax style I didn't ask his name!) who had just been rescued by Arthur's wife who was also there. I had half a pint of bitter and dripped all over the place. I tried to find a dry bit of me to wipe my hands on to sign the brevet card but couldn't find one. When I left the pub at 1.30am there was still no sign of the 4 riders coming in behind me. I hope they made it in time!
Driving home I realised that I was struggling to concentrate and couldn't seem to maintain a speed over 60mph on the M5 because my brain wasn't working properly. I pulled off at Taunton and had 40 mins sleep in a lay by. I finally got into bed at 3.30am and was thoroughly knackered! The Garmin seems not to have survived so well and is now stuck on the 'Garmin' boot up screen, won't turn on or off and the hard reset doesn't work. I think I will have to leave it to go flat and try again. This morning I am stiff as a very stiff thing and my right thumb is completely numb with occasional pins and needles. The bike is still in the car and in a right state but I think I will sort that tomorrow!
I was pleased to find that eating on longer Audax's isn't going to be a problem for me. Altogether on this ride I managed to consume:
1.5 litres water
500ml Nuun-water
2.5 pints of Coke
1 cup of tea
2 capuccino's
1 flat white coffee
1 chocolate muffin
2 slices of toast with egg on
1 large packet of mini cheddars
1 mars bar
1 packet of butter shortbread
1 steak and chips
1 galaxy bar
1 cheese roll and half a pint of bitter at the end
Many thanks to Ian H and his helpers Lexi and Elly for a great route, I'm glad I picked this for my first 300
Good news! The Garmin came back to life.
click here for the route and stats.