A Weekly Report, #30Daysofbiking

We're at the end of the second full week of thirty days of biking now.

Again, a full week of commutes lies behind me.  It's been a tolerably easy week for those, with some ok weather, and the worst of it being an annoying drizzle on a couple of mornings, rather than anything worse.

Towards the weekend, I've picked up a niggle in my left knee, that left me limping around on Friday evening, and hobbling at the weekend.

I'd already decided to do a short ride on Saturday, after feeling quite fatigued last week.  In the end, this was a slightly forced affair - we headed out en famille to Crewe, in the car, and I loaded the Brompton in the boot, and rode back.  An easy two and a half miles or so, spinning as much as I could to avoid stressing my knee. 

On Sunday, my knee was no better, but I was still determined to ride.  I ummed and ahhed about the route, deciding on NCN70 (the Cheshire Cycleway) in the direction of Audlem and Wrenbury, as I remembered it as being reasonably flat.  The plan was not to go too hard, spin the pedals in a lowish gear, and I set myself a goal of 30 miles. 

It was a grim ride, in some ways.  Firstly, my recollection of the route was pretty far out, rolling, with occasional steep parts, that made it hard to settle to any sort of rhythm in my pedalling.  My knee grumbled at every attempt to put serious power through it, and I ended up pulling that leg through with my right leg on the steeper parts.  My continuous feeling on the ride was that I lacked gears to suit my new pedalling - either too low, with me "catching" the pedals on every rotation, or too high, with my knee shrieking at the effort.  The bike I've ridden since 2007 was suddenly unfamiliar, alien, and at times only sheer bloody mindedness kept me rolling towards my mileage target.

With all that, even this ride had its wonderful moments - pedalling up through Englesea Brook, I saw young squirrels playing on a tree stump, and the spring flowers were in bloom all along the route.  The weather was wonderful, the roads quiet, and the views breathtaking.

With a functioning knee, this sort of thing is my idea of fun.

Riding back, I discovered a new part of the Cheshire Cycleway that allows me to cut out a dull, high speed single carriageway that I've never particularly liked riding.  Funny how a route you know can still throw up surprises.

Although it didn't feel like it at the time, I think "spinning" my knee has been good for it - it feels better today than it did on Friday, and I was able to put more power through my left leg on today's commute than I was on Sundays ride - hopefully it will continue to improve.

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The Stoke on Trent Challenge Tour Ride, 2010

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Posted via email from monkeyphoto's posterous

This, of course, should really be at the end - the moment at which we crossed the line, 80k after setting off from Queen's Park Longton at the end of this year's Stoke on Trent Challenge Tour Ride.

THE BEGINNING

The whole thing began on a visit to my sister's house a month or so ago. My brother in law Rick took a 'phone call.

"Hey John, d'you fancy doing a charity bike ride?"
"How long is it?"
"About 50 miles."
"Sure, why not."

His brother (Huw) had organised a work team to ride the event - a few people had dropped out, so he was trying to round up folk to get the team numbers back up. At this point, I'd not been out on the bike for a Sunday ride for a bit, so this seemed like a good way to remotivate myself.

As it was, I managed a short (30 mile) ride, and one around the Tour Ride distance (a 52 mile ride along the Cheshire Cycleway) before the event - I felt I had to ride the distance, just to prove to myself I was still capable of it. I still had a niggly feeling that I'd not done enough. Although I was still getting in 130 miles a week, these were short commuting rides, mostly on the Long Haul Trucker, not the bike I'd ride on the day of the Tour Ride.

In the week before, my ride pack arrived.

Luggage label, rider number and timing chip were all enclosed. Suddenly the day of the ride seemed very close.

THE DAY BEFORE

On the Saturday before, I cleaned the bike I'd be riding (my Giant SCR2.0), agonised over whether my brake blocks needed changing or not (no, they didn't) and whether to ride on my Aksiums, or Tiagra/DRC ST18 wheels (I chose Aksiums). I also found that my Specialized Airtool Road pump had, at some point, lost its valve assembly. I may have sworn about that, as Saturday evening is no time to find out that your bike pump is missing a small, hard to find and vital part. I bodged my Topeak Road Morph G pump into the bracket instead, with an extra velcro strap to stop the pump head coming loose as I rode. I wondered whether I had time to rewrap my handlebars for the next day (no, but I did clean the bar tape with some Cif).

My toptube bag got loaded up with a handful of jelly beans, and some chunks of Soreen for fuel on the ride. In retrospect, I could have left the Soreen, given the excellent feed stops on the ride (every one had flapjack, mule bars and bananas in good quantity, and the last one had Soreen too). I'd still pack jelly beans (or jelly babies) - as either are great for a quick sugar hit. (NOTE: if jelly babies/jelly beans unavailable, Co-Op wine gums have the monkey seal of approval also).

Rutland Cycling also came through, delivering the Specialized Echelon helmet I'd ordered the week before (and that they'd had to back order) on Saturday, making my kit slightly less of a riot of clashing colours than it would have been otherwise. Having said that, there aren't many pictures of me out on the route where I don't look like a yellow bin bag perched atop a racing bike - I regret not looking harder for my Cycle Chat gilet, with its racier cut.

Last thing on Saturday night, I fitted the timing chip to the bike. I spent a good while trying to figure out how to attach it to the downtube without fouling the derailleur cables (impossible). After that, and some more anxious examination of my brakes (they are FINE) and agonising over wheel choices (still the Aksiums) I succumbed and read the instructions for the timing chip.

"Oh, you can attach it to the front axle? Ah yes, that's actually very straightforward indeed."

I'll know for next time.

I had a fitful night's sleep, and wasn't exactly sure why - I knew I could ride the distance I needed to, and that the bike was in good shape. I put it down to having never ridden this sort of event before. How would I handle riding in a group? What if I wasn't as fit as I thought I was? Were those Aksiums (with their proprietary spokes) really the best choice? I could nip down and change them for my sensible 32 3x handbuilts... Sleep came eventually, and the morning alarm seemed to come too quick - I'd set it early to allow time for (more) kit and bike checks.

ON THE DAY

Fortunately for me, and my burgeoning obsessive compulsive complex, my brother in law arrived earlier than we'd anticipated the following morning, so the checking and rechecking ended, and it was time to get the kit in the car, and the bike on the carrier.

Finding the event was surprisingly easy (largely because my brother in law was driving and navigating, I don't think I'd have done so well). We were lucky to get into the "farmer's field" car park too, not long before it was closed up, so we weren't far from Queen's Park and the start/registration at all. Once we'd taken the bikes down from the carrier, we walked down to the park, and on the way I saw the Rapha-Condor-Sharp team car, driven by none other than John Herety himself! I gave him a thumbs up as we passed, and he waved and said hello, which made me briefly star struck.

Once in the park, we waited for the other members of the team to arrive. I helped a few fit their timing chips, including one that we bodged to a bottle cage bolt (for some reason the non lever end of his quick release wouldn't unscrew at all). My brother in law went to register (he'd not had his rider pack and timing chip before the ride) and we left our kit bags at the bag drop. Mrs Monkey phoned to say that they'd not been able to park yet, (they were mistakenly sent to the rider car park, on Stanley Matthews Way) and ask after our start time - we didn't have one by then, so I told her I'd have to set off when the team did.

Eventually, 9am rolled 'round, and we headed for the start. I'd expected to be waiting for a while here, but a group rolled out just as we came up to the line, and once our group had reached 40 ish riders, the lady marshalling the start counted down (I joined in, I was raring to go at this point) and off we went. Unfortunately, Mrs Monkey didn't make it to the start, and spent a bit of time watching people who weren't me set off before we were able to get in touch with each other and realise what had happened. I did end up in one of Cycle Stoke's pictures of the start though (facebook link).

THE RIDE: 0km - 35km

We'd not gone 5km before Huw had a puncture - we think his rear tyre picked up some glass somewhere in the park. After a quick tube change (and the first, and only use of my Topeak Road Morph on the ride) we set off again. Rick and I rode to the first climb (up to Swynnerton, I think), and realised we'd lost the rest of the team. We pulled over into a driveway to wait, and chatted to a couple of riders walking the first hill, who stopped to rest where we'd stopped. Once the team caught up, we discovered that Huw had had another puncture. Despite checking the inside of his tyre at the last tube change, a piece of glass lodged in the outer casing of the tyre, only going through to the tube as he rode. Taking another of the team's spare tubes, he changed the punctured tube and caught up with us again.

At the Milwich Feed Stop. That's Huw in the foreground, and in the background is the Green Man pub...

After Swynnerton, there's a nice descent and a couple of lumps before the next biggish hill, which leads up to the first feed stop at Milwich (35km). I think this was one of the first "Aha!" hills on the route - by which I mean the steepest part is hidden initially by a corner. I loved this aspect of the route, and surprised myself by spinning up the hills fairly easily - beforehand I wasn't sure how I'd cope with a 50 mile ride lumpier than my usual route. The Milwich feed stop set the tone for the others - well staffed and marshalled, with ample supplies of water, energy drink, Mule Bars (I do regret not picking up one of the "Summer Pudding" flavour ones) flapjacks and bananas, as well as toilets for those who needed them. We picked up some of the rest of the team at Milwich too - the folk on MTBs and hybrids were going a little slower than us for most of the route.

We spent a bit of time chatting to a chap doing the route with his wife - he knew the area, and flagged up a couple of upcoming climbs, as well as singing the praises of the descent into Upper Tean.

After filling up our bottles, and popping a "Zero" hydration tablet into the water (helps keep away cramp, although I'm not sure how much we were sweating given the cold) we set off again.

THE RIDE: 35km - 50km

Most of the route from here fit the "gently rolling" description of the course in the rider pack, although the hill into Bramshall (I think) was fairly steep, followed by a nice descent and then pretty much a steady rise after. Rick and I stuck together for most of this part of the route (I think Huw dropped back to check on the rest of the team). On the way into the lunch stop at Church Leigh, we passed a couple of ladies in Shutt Vr "Continental" jerseys. As the tops were matching, I wondered if they were something to do with the company. It turned out that these were the Tour of Britain podium girls, and Shutt Vr had supplied their kit for the ride, although I only found this out afterwards.

The lunch stop was a short way off the route, so a marshall was there to point riders in the right direction.

"Racng this way, Food that way" he shouted as we rode up. "Food", we agreed.

At the lunch stop (50km), as well as the flapjack, mule bars and water, there were energy gels (didn't fancy those, to be honest) and M&S sandwiches. Rick opted for a BLT (something he said later *may* have been a mistake). I went for Wensleydale and carrot chutney in my sandwich, perhaps subconsciously remembering my joke about doing the ride on my tourer, with a saddlebag filled with cheese and pickle sandwiches and a thermos. That's my CTC roots showing.

THE RIDE: 50km - 72km

Heading out of the lunch stop, we had a bit more up hill before the descent into Upper Tean, which was indeed a lot of fun. I dropped into as aerodynamic a position as I could on the bike, and hit 36mph here, before the road began to climb again heading for Barlaston. As I recall, this was where we began to ride into a headwind as well. I figured I'd try and help by setting some of the pace/spoiling the wind by riding on the front - something that didn't work very well as I kept turning around to find I'd ridden the others off my wheel! I think more group riding should be on my training agenda to properly get the hang of this, as it's not something I have to think about when most of my training is solo Sunday rides. Another nice descent brought us down to Barlaston.

The feed stop at Barlaston isn't far from the end of the ride (at 72km) but I was keen to stop to say hello to Twitter's @kathrynebrown and @00moore, race administrators for the Tour of Britain and Tour Series, who were staffing the Barlaston stop. It was a pleasure to meet them both, and we had a quick chat about the tour ride route and this year's Tour of Britain (I also took the opportunity to eat a banana), before I rejoined Huw and Rick outside. I delayed our start still further by chatting to a couple riding the Family Ride with a baby in a bike seat, and a child on a tag-a-long bike - they were enjoying their day, although the father had hoped to ride the Challenge ride we were doing, apparently! I also gave Mrs Monkey a quick ring to revise our finish time. I'd been alternately over and under optimistic all the way 'round, creating a bit of a logistical nightmare for her in terms of her gettng the brood to the finish on time!

THE RIDE: 72km - 80km

The road starts to rise a little way out of Barlaston again, and eventually comes to another "Aha" hill, and I think I actually laughed out loud on reaching that one, as the steep part was so close to the end. Although plenty of folk were walking, Rick (whose longest training ride had been 21 miles, and was on a borrowed bike - he's a runner, not a cyclist) stayed in the saddle for every climb on the route, including this one. Again, I surprised myself by just spinning up the hill. For the first time on the ride, I began to feel a bit too warm as well, so I took the opportunity to get rid of my gilet while waiting for Huw and Rick. The final stretch of the ride was along a road by the Wedgewood visitor centre, and was really enjoyable (the profile of the route shows it all downhill to the finish after the last hill, so we could enjoy the scenery too).

Coming into the park, we agreed that we'd cross the finish in a line, having ridden the course together. The finish itself was an amazing experience - the Tour of Britain crash barriers and boards are out, the finish gantry is up, the Tour's mc (Joe Fisher) announces you as you approach, and people are cheering and banging the boards as you ride up to the line. Mrs Monkey and the Monklets had made it to the finish too, and they banged the boards and waved their flags like everyone else - it was a really fantastic end to a brilliant ride. After crossing the line, Joe Fisher was stood by the medal presenter and welcomed us over the finish while we received our tour ride medals.


We stayed to welcome the other riders over the line for a while (and to pose for a team picture, above). As well as seeing the rest of the Gordon's Honda Bolton team, we saw the family I'd chatted to at Barlaston, and several other riders we'd met along the way. Eventually we left, grabbing our kit bags from the bag drop, and picking up our goody bags and free pasta meal.


Rick at the finish line.

Our riding time (i.e. excluding feed stops, puncture stops) came in at 3hrs 23 minutes for 50.28 miles.

IN SUMMARY

It was a brilliant day. The ride was supremely well organised, with a terrific, interesting course that had been very well thought out (we went through the busiest roads early on in the day, for example). The route also showed off the county's beauty to great effect - I suspect we'll see a few of the riders returning to see it in a less pressured way after the event!

Also hugely worthy of praise were the friendly and helpful marshalls, volunteers and well stocked and organised feeds. Riding to the finish through the cheers and applause was an unforgettable experience, as was being cheered on by the small groups of people we'd see from time to time on the course watching the ride. I'd have no hesitation at all in recommending the Tour Rides very highly.

The ride was in aid of the Prostate Cancer Charity (more details here) - you're very welcome to sponsor me if you'd like to, my fundraising page is here (there is no pressure, I've no target to reach as I was only riding as a stand in!).

An Account to Be Settled

Sunday Ride - 14/02/2010, originally uploaded by John the Monkey.

There is an account to be settled.

That much is clear to me once the family turns back (mechanical on my daughter's bike, her pedal has seized). There are protestations that I should ride back with them, Mrs. Monkey insists that they will be fine, and I should carry on riding. No excuse now. No one to slow and wait for. No one to keep the distance low for.

I love Mrs. Monkey.

The tourer has languished in the garage over the Winter, poor weather keeps me off the commute. Poor weather and family commitments devour my weekends. The new bell is fitted, the cushy 42c tyres are on, the brakes are adjusted, attention has been lavished, but the miles are not in my legs.

There is an account to be settled.

I kid myself that keeping my legs turning over with 7 miles of Brompton riding each day will have done some good. The road heads upwards. Was this the gear I was in last time I was here? Why do I feel so stretched out on this bike? Maybe my saddle is too low. Maybe the big tyres are heavier than my 32s.

Familiar countryside rolls by; thank god, the hill ends, I freewheel down. I should have bought rollers; a turbo. I did consider it - but I only missed two weeks the year before last. And a month or so the year before. I can't spend the money just for that. And can I sit in the garge, pedalling away after a day at work? No view, no breeze in my face, no joy, no spur of the moment diversions, just artificial miles, unrolled relentlessly with single minded purpose.

If only.

In November, I had skidded through the rain, bounced on the parts of trees that the wind had left in the gutter, half seen in the angry glare of headlamps. The dark, the wet, the cold had enveloped me, and pulled me to a crawling speed. The rain fell directly into my face, the tyres bounced and slipped on obstacles seen and unseen. The other traffic dazzled and blared and harassed. I put the tourer in the garage. I unfolded the Brompton.

Thirty miles becomes seven. Two hours on the bike becomes thirty minutes. I read more, I buy a more expensive season ticket for the train. I leave the house later, work longer, arrive home at the same time. At the weekends I put my cycling kit out. I see the weather and I lie in instead. I think about Summer, and lighter mornings and evenings. I put off the reckoning for my indolence. I try not to think about the ground I will have to make up.

The tourer is almost whisper quiet. The Brompton is accompanied by a comparative cacophony of squeaks and clicks. The folding pedal clicks metronomically. The suspension block squeaks on all but the driest days. On the tourer I listen; I can hear the hiss of tyres on tarmac. A slight complaint from the nosebolt of the Brooks saddle. The click as gears move up and down. The wind moving past me.

Up on to the big ring. Is this fast? I have no idea - measuring the new size of the front wheel and its larger tyre is still on the "to do" list. The bike computer is in my desk drawer at home. It feels fast. It feels like hard work. Change down a sprocket, take it easy for a while. By god this bike is comfortable. The big tyres and steel soak up the buzz from the road. My hands edge towards the hoods rather than the tops. Why does this bike feel so long?

Left onto the trail. Gravel and potholes - I've turned away from this before on high pressure tyres. The 42s roll over it, with a little bit of weaving to avoid the larger holes. Up over the bridge, around a tight turn onto the trail. Clear ahead of me, change up, pedal on.

The main part of the trail is busy, walkers, dogs, runners, families on bikes. Slow down, ring the bell, chat, thank, ride on. Through the crushes - just wide enough to allow me to go through sat on the bike. Just. Moss marks my shoulders, visible evidence of my misjudgement.

I love the bell. It rings like it's mounted on the desk of an old fashioned hotel. Maybe a smartly suited functionary will appear to offer me his wheel? Dog walkers call their dogs back to them; hold the lead tighter; wave as I pass and thank them. The parents on bikes nod, the children pedal furiously, as competition awakes in them, or ring their bells in reply.

The runners settle their own accounts, heads down, focussed, mutely accepting my thanks. There are resolutions to keep, their own lost, icy weeks to recover.

There is traffic noise ahead - it grows, until a gate comes into view. Beyond the gate, two lanes of main road. I step aside and hold the gate for a couple with a German shephard dog, they hold the gate for me. Exchange thanks and look at the road. The traffic here is quick, 60-70 miles per hour, I guess. There is no icy layoff to make up for here. No debt to pay before getting back to business as usual. Here you buy your speed, the link between sweat and motion stretched to breaking point. A gap - across the road and through the gate. Back on the bike, and on along the trail.

More walkers; more dogs; more runners; more bikes. Up over the little bridge. Mark that as a photo to take on the way back. The end of the trail, and a decision to make. It can wait. A drink of water and a biscuit first, it's lunchtime. I realise the bottle cage still has one of the bottles of orange I brought for the children in it. I mentally note the extra weight that makes. Kid myself again.

Back on the bike, too early to head back down the trail yet. Turn onto the road, and head for the NCN marker. Industrial units flash by, I try to recall where I am. The sign for the station, and Elworth - yes, now I know. The road is not busy, and it's wide. The traffic passes with good space between bike and car. I wave thanks. Could it be like this even in the dark and the rain?

Maybe this is fast? The road is level, I seem to be in a high-ish gear. Maybe. The NCN is contradictory. The gravel and potholes, the trail. Now clear, fast road. The next marker - that's not where I want. Pedal on.

I see the railway line, the sign for the station, the junction with the main road. My saddle is too low. Lean the bike up, get the multi-tool. Is that high enough? Maybe. Look at the main road. Follow that home, or double back?

Back the way I came. The bike is coming back to me now. I remember that I must change gear as I slow down. I need to get ready before I stop. Hub gears have made me lazy. I feel less stretched out, more at home.

There is an account to be settled.

My legs fill with a good ache. I take the photo I'd noted earlier. I think about whether I can fix my daughter's pedal. I try and remember the weather forecast for next week. The niggle in my knee subsides. Stop and wait while a family comes down the trail with their dog. I am in the right gear when I move off. I remember now.

Maybe my saddle was too low.

Maybe this is fast.