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Journal

Filtering by Tag: Fitness

An attempt at the Rapha Womens 100.

10,000km.cc

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Date: Sunday 26th July, 2015

Distance: 29.9km | Elevation: 358m

Start kms: 5,235.6km | Finish kms: 5,265.5km  | % complete: 52.7%

Destinations: New Cross – Mottingham – Knockholt

You know it’s not a good ride when I don’t have the wherewithal or the want to reach for my phone and take a few photos. 

Months ago, Ashley signed-up to the Rapha Womens 100, a challenge designed to get as many ladies out on their bikes as possible and covering some serious distance. 

A day on the bike at the end of July – the height of British summer – seemed like a great way to spend a Sunday. Agreeing to join her, I excitedly planned a route way back in March. Gorrod and I even did a recce at the end of that month to identify any major areas for concern that we should look to avoid (that was the one where Gorrod bonked, if you remember).

It turns out the March version of the ride held abundantly better weather than the July one. Taking a leisurely approach to the day, we got on the road just after 09.00 and the rain had already begun.

To quote Ashley, from there on in it was “relentless”. Without the slightest let-up, we pedalled on and were soaked through to our socks by 10km. By 20km I could feel the puddles of water sloshing around inside my shoes. 

It was me that was beginning to lose patience, with Ashley staying good-humoured despite the onslaughts. Mounting my iPhone onto my handlebars so we could direct ourselves to Royal Tunbridge Wells had been a fine proposition in theory, but in practice the amount of rain hitting the screen throughout the ride meant my phone kept thinking I was relentlessly hitting buttons. The result was the route either redirecting or disappearing from my screen completely. 

Despite my best efforts, forever-wet hands meant I couldn’t rectify this without pulling over to the side of the road and taking the phone from its case. As I did this for the fourth time in 30km, with Ashley and I sheltering under a tree, it was time to call it a day. 

This wasn’t going to be the last time I’d have to do this, the roads were slippery and dangerous (and quickly filling up with traffic), the puddles in our shoes had become small lakes, the rain was here to stay and our waterproof clothing wasn’t up to the mark. 

We admitted defeat at 30km and got on the train from Knockholt back to New Cross, Royal Tunbridge Wells still a far-off aspiration. 

This was a timely reminder to make the most of the nicer suymmer months whilst they’re still around. 

Details:

LDN-BTN-LDN.

10,000km.cc

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Date: Saturday 11th July, 2015
Distance: 217.7km | Elevation: 2,467m
Start kms: 4,792.9km | Finish kms: 5,010.6km  | % complete: 50.1%

Destinations: New Cross – London Bridge – Ditching Beacon – Brighton – Ashdown Forest – Royal Tunbridge Wells – New Cross

We’d had this ride in our sights for some time, having scheduled it in during the wetter, darker winter months of the year. 

There seemed to be something innately satisfying about heading from London, down to Brighton, and then coming back again all in one day. 

Part of it no doubt stemmed from the fact that it was a loop. It’s always itws own reward to hit the start and finish button on your GPS outside of your front door. 

Part of it arguably came from an inherent (albeit it slightly shameful) smugness of covering a well-trodden, well-publicised and frequently organised ride before lunch and then doing the same again, only in the opposite direction. 

And part of it was definitely because it looked good written in short-hand: LDN-BGN-LDN.

Someone needs to put that on a t-shirt. 

Amongst with the usual subjects – Hendo,Gorrod and Saul – was colleague and new-bike-owner, Dan. Having not ridden more than about 40km and seeing this as a reasonable distance to wear in a fresh saddle and new bike set-up, he met us at London Bridge for a 06.00 depart. 

Yet another sunny day awaited us and with it another day of milestones. 

First, whilst not by much, was that with a total distance of 217km, this saw my longest ride benchmark creep up a little further. 

Second – and more exciting – was that with this incremental gain would come the halfway point of my 10,000km. Somewhere between Mottingham and Eltham, I crossed the invisible 5,000km line.

But that came later. Before all of that that was my first ride from London to Brighton and an introduction to Ditchling Beacon (and all that comes before it). 

A Category 4 climb, Ditching Beacon wasn’t necessarily steep – it was just 90km into the ride and a kilometre and a half long, so it started to take it out of you towards the top. That said, it was a really enjoyable climb for the fact that there were no sudden kicks or surprises lurking round any bends and for the incredible views at the top.

Out of curiosity, I’ve just taken a minute or ten to look back through my previous rides. Whilst my legs would be inclined to disagree, at no point have I taken on ay hill that is categorised beyond a level 4. I’ve gone back into 2014 to see if that held any level-ups – nothing. 

Some of those climbs still haunt me, so I dread to think what a Category 3, let along a Category 2 or 1, would do to me. 

Back on Ditching Beacon, we stopped at the top to take in the views and wait for the group come back together. Dan, well beyond his furthest ride already by this point, was still hammering away despite having a camelbak, a BMX helmet and a lack of cleats to contend with. 

The buttered loaf of Soreen he retrieved from his pack at the top was well-deserved. It was also an excellent choice of riding snack of which I took note for future rides. 

The final 10km into Brighton was a gentle downhill that took us to our first stop. We’d heard about Velo Cafe from numerous sources and were under the impression that it was one of the best cycling cafes in the UK. Whilst that may have been the case at some point in the past, it’s certainly not true now. I’m not sure whether it’s under new management or if they’ve just changed tack, but this was less cycling-hub and more caff with outdoor seating. 

Thankfully, our second stop would be through the tried, tested and universally-liked The Velo House in Royal Tunbridge Wells, where all disappointment was annihilated by not so much a slice, but a slab of white chocolate rocky road. 

The second leg of the day was relatively uneventful, the high points being the fact that we made it to the coast and actually saw the sea (unlike in Kings Lynn in the Tour de March earlier this year) and another run through Ashdown Forest on yet another perma-kit-inducing day. 

The low point was probably watching Gorrod throw himself around unknown corners on a couple of downhill segments at far too high a speed, shouting out “REALLY SHARP ONE” at the top of his lungs. 

We didn’t see the value in explaining that was the reason we were hanging back in the first place.  

As well as providing us with vast quantities of butter and sugar, it was at The Velo House, at 160km, that Dan decided it was best to call it a day. Having just one movement available to him through the pedals (pushing) his legs had begun to feel it, as had his shoulders as he became used to a new sitting position on a brand new frame. With a train station 2 minutes from where we sat eating our enchiladas, the temptation was all too much. 

If that was my first ride out, I would not have hope to have faired anywhere close to that well. 

I had built up the Royal Tunbridge Wells to London stretch in my head as being pretty brutal, filled with two, if not three, fairly challenging hills in there. However, avoiding Brasted and Toys Hill this time round meant the reality of the ride was far better, more enjoyable and – as a result – faster than I could have hoped so far in. We quickly made our way back in to Bromley and then Greenwich. Trying to avoid as much of the traffic as possible, we went up, over and through Greenwich Park rather than straight through Lewisham. 

It meant avoiding people rather than cars, but at this stage it was definitely the lesser of two evils. 

Averaging the final 70km at a pace of around 25kph we all managed to get off the bike feeling if not good, then at least pretty okay. 

Given the fact that Dan, Hendo, Saul and I all managed a run the following day (separately, I hasten to add), we can;t have been completely done in. 

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Details:

Smelling the roses.

10,000km.cc

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Date: Sunday 7th June, 2015
Distance: 53.4km | Elevation: 543m
Destinations: New Cross – Eynsford – New Cross

Start kms: 3,554.3km | Finish kms: 3,607.7 | % complete: 36.1%

Actually, in this case it was a case of admiring the poppies. 

Fresh from my ride with Hendo into Knatts Valley, I’d been reminded of just how fantastic greater London and its abundance of countryside was looking. For reasons that I am entirely unaware, the poppies had taken over a number of fields with full force on the way out towards Eynsford (see previous post) and the results were nothing short of spectacular. 

I decided that Ashley would no doubt appreciate this and that I had to show her. She even wore her floral Freddie Merckx jersey as a fitting tribute. 

Was this all a ruse to squeeze in another few kms before the week was through? 

I couldn’t possibly say. 

We both enjoyed it though. 

Details:

Discovering Knatts Valley.

10,000km.cc

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Date: Saturday 6th June, 2015.
Distance: 115.2km | Elevation: 1,214m
Destinations: New Cross — Shoreham — Knatts Valley — Bromley — New Cross

Start kms: 3,439.1 | Finish kms: 3,554.3 | % complete: 35.5%

The internet — and Instagram in particular — is filled with road porn. 

Especially when you follow the right people (I’m looking at you, Rapha). 

Vistas. Rolling hills. Mountain ranges. Long, seemingly never-ending descents filled with smooth bends and sharp chicanes. It’s difficult to stay off the bike and have a slower-paced day when a quick thumb through your newsfeed gives you an enormous case of cycling FOMO

In many cases, it’s pretty easy to appease yourself: 

“That run’s in the middle of The Dolomites." 

“That climb’s only accessible as part of an expensive trip to the French Alps." 

“I won’t find views like that without sacrificing several precious hours of my weekend on a train." 

They’re not forever off the cards, but they’re not going to be ticked off the list in the immediate future. 

However, there was one hallowed piece of road that I’d seen often and had no reason to have not visited. Ride route after ride route recommended it. Photos emitted their FOMO-magnetism, drawing me towards it. 

And yet, having lived in South East London for 2 years and had it practically on my doorstep, I had never been. 

On a morning that I’d decided to take down the Strava Gran Fondo for the month, Hendo decided he was going to introduce me to it. 

It was a last-minute decision in the middle of a Kent loop and it was utterly worth it. A longish, gradual descent brought us into the valley where we are able to cruise between two hedgerows, surrounded by wildflowers and what may well have been rapeseed.

At its lowest, flattest point, it was remarkably easy to see why and how Kent has earned the moniker of ‘the garden of England’. It was almost enough to take the sting out of the hill that awaits on the other side. 

Almost. 

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Details:

Road rash.

10,000km.cc

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Date: Monday 20th April, 2015
Distance: 4.7km | Elevation: 16m

Destinations: Regent St.

Start kms: 2,400.3km | Finish kms: 2,405.0km | % complete: 24.1%

With a long weekend in Helsinki waiting for me in the second half of the week, I was looking to get ahead of myself by getting in some considerable Monday miles. 

I shouldn’t have bothered. 

As Gorrod and I moved slowly towards Regents Park, winding our way through the rush hour traffic along Tottenham Court Road and onto Regent Street, the cars, lorries and motorbikes parted momentarily to create a clear run up towards Portland Place. 

Out of the saddle, I started to accelerate towards the park, with Gorrod sticking closely to my back wheel. As we climbed past 30kph, my eyes strayed from the road directly in front of me and concentrated on the traffic sitting further on.

I therefore did not see the enormous pothole that brought my bike to an abrupt and aggressive stop. As I flew over the front of my handlebars and slid along the smooth tarmac of Regent Street, I had no idea what had put me there. 

Lying on the ground, trying desperately to catch my breath whilst Gorrod flew over the top of me, his bike having sailed directly into my hip, I was still none-the-wiser. 

It wasn’t until we‘d dragged ourselves (and our bikes) to the side of the road that we were bewilderedly able to identify the cause and culprit of the two-man pile-up. 

Assuring concerned bystanders that we were okay, we patted ourselves down and dusted ourselves off before assessing the inevitable damage. 

First, the people. Gorrod was able to escape with a few extra grazes to add to his growing collection. My elbow was bleeding from a deep graze and was starting to swell, but it was manageable. 

Next, the bikes. Gorrod’s was fine (thankfully, as I felt like this crash was my fault). Mine had seen better days. The brakes had bent on impact and the front wheel may well have been slightly buckled from the force at which it had hit the pothole. The slide along the road had also wrong through my bar tape and scratched the actual handlebars underneath as well. 

If there was a silver-lining to be found in this shambles, it was that we’d managed to crash directly outside a Boots chemist (where I was able to buy antiseptic wipes for our wounds) and a 2-minute walk from an Evans Cycles where I left my bike for a once over before heading home on the tube. 

No matter the reason, there’s something that feels fundamentally wrong with catching public transport whilst dressed in full lycra, cleats and a helmet. That uneasiness is infinitely enhanced when you do so whilst nursing a wound.

Still, another 4km in the bank. 

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