24 (A slightly different perspective)

When I found out that the UK 24 Hour Solo Champs were going to be at Newcastleton, just 2 hours down the road from home, I knew I had to give it a bash.

My confidence has taken a bit of a beating since the Trans Portugal last year and I’ve struggled to shake off a persistent virus and to get back to the level of fitness I had before the TP. So my only objective with 24 Solo was to finish and feel like I’d really tried. I’d soloed a 24 a few years ago, so I knew it was going to be tough and that my mind and body would have to work pretty hard to go the distance. But that also meant that I’d been able to do it once, so I should be able to do it again.

Chris and I had to Newcastleton to recce the terrain in March. Riding around, it looked like it had potential to be a really interesting course with plenty of singletrack, climbs and views to keep me switched on for the 24 hours. Based on that ride, the gearing on my singlespeed was lowered to a spinny 32-20!

We arrived at Newcastleton early on Friday evening and found that Steve had already found a good trackside spot for our camping and joint support crews, just before the start/finish area. While Chris set up our camp I went off to register and see what was happening and figure out what the options were for dinner. I managed spot some familiar faces who all said encouraging things …well, actually they all said I was mad for racing singlespeed, but that’s as encouraging as it gets really.

Friday night involved the usual pre-race nervous chatter and a few beers and then off to bed early in the hope of getting some sleep. My body had decided that I really needed to stay awake for 48 hours though, because, through a combination of nerves and a sloping campsite, I hardly slept.

By 8am on Saturday morning, it was already hot. Chris came back from a ride round the course very hot looking, so a spare bottle cage was promptly put on my bike to carry a bottle of water for skooshing over myself when I got hot (I have learned something from racing in hot places!).


Before I knew it, it was rider briefing time and then time to roll down the hill to Newcastleton for the start in the town square. Each rider was called up to sign on, in front of all the other riders, supporters and the rest of the town. Then the race started with the Copshaw Common Riders (a group of local riders on cruisers of all shapes and sizes) leading us racers out of Newcastleton and back up the hill to the trails and we were off proper.

The pace was pretty quick and I could already see the lead guys charging off up the hill, but I wasn’t in any hurry, so I hung back and enjoyed the views and the chat at the back of the field and then joined the gentleman’s queue at the first section of singletrack. Once we got to the top, riders starter to thin out and we could start riding. It was blinking hot though, so I was grateful of that extra water bottle to pour water down my back whenever I got too hot. Okay, I was riding around in soggy clothes, but it stopped me from overheating.

My first few laps went quite well and I really enjoyed the course and felt pretty good. I was having a lot of fun cheering on the other riders and shouting encouragement as we passed each other. Lap three started to change a wee bit though. I’d been riding through the watersplash rather than crossing the bridge so that I could cool down in the water. Unfortunately, this made my shoes quite wet and they started to stretch a bit and then start rubbing. So I ended up with blisters on each foot, which were quite uncomfortable. I didn’t have a spare pair of shoes with me, so I just did the straps up a bit tighter and hoped for the best.

Before I knew it, it was time to get the lights on the bike and start preparing myself for the ride through the night. I knew from the last time I’d done a solo 24 that the toughest time would be around 2am, so I started preparing myself for that inner battle.

Things started to get pretty quiet out on the course and I found that I’d often ride almost half a lap without seeing anyone. Then I’d come across a couple of riders sitting by the side of the trail having a chat and admiring the moonlight, so I’d stop and have a bit of a chat with them before reminding myself that I’m meant to be riding my bike.

I carried on and pulled into the pits at around 2am for some hot food. Despite Jenn’s sage words of advice, I sat down to have a bowl of pasta and then started to feel a bit peaky. I could see concerned faces looking at me from our combined support crew when I stood up and started wobbling. I was determined to do this thing though, so I picked up my bike and started off again, only to start shaking uncontrollably. I knew I wouldn’t be able to make it round the lap like that, so I pulled back into the pits to be met by Chris carrying my puffy jacket. He took me back to the tent and instructed me to get changed into fresh riding kit and get into my sleeping bag until I warmed up.

I thought that was my race over. As I lay there shivering in my sleeping bag I heard Amy and Grant come and go and started to feel pretty desperate. All I wanted to do was finish a race and prove to myself that I could still do it, but my body didn’t seem to have the same idea.

It took me just over an hour to warm back up again, but when I did, I had a sudden surge of energy and decided that I wasn’t going to be beaten by temperature again! And anyhow, I didn’t want to miss the dawn lap (that’s what 24 hour racing is all about after all!).

So, after fumbling around to get new contact lenses in, I got back on the bike and set off again. I’d dropped a couple of laps, but it didn’t really matter. I’d managed to get back out and was going to finish.

Chris writes: And praise the wee baby Jebus for that as I was mentally preparing for the brutal fight of wills necessary to get Jac out of a snug soloists sleeping bag and back on the bike…

The dawn lap was everything a dawn lap should be… peaceful, hardly anyone on the course, tweeting birds in the trees and mist rising from the valleys. Lovely.

Dawn also meant we were almost finished, so I had to start thinking about how many more laps I was going to do – this was a ‘short’ 24 hour format, we had to be finished within the 24 hours and any lap which finished after the 24 hours wouldn’t count. I really didn’t want a lap not to count, so I had to try to figure out how long my laps needed to be and how long my pit stops could be. So I decided I could do another 2 laps.

On my last lap, I rode round and thanked all the marshals – they really did a top job, sitting in the woods all night. I rolled back into the campsite at around 10am and wasn’t quite sure what to do. I should have time for another lap, but what if I didn’t make it?

It was when the support crew of one of the female vets, Anne Dickens, said that I should at least give it a go, that I thought, what the heck! My legs felt okay, so I might as well ride for a bit longer. After all, how often do I get to ride my bike for 24 hours? I didn’t want to waste the opportunity!

So I went out for another lap and had a blast! I charged through all the bits I’d been cautious on until then, singing away to myself and thanking all the marshals again.

As I was climbing up the last climb of the course, one of the quick male riders rode alongside me for a bit. As we were riding along, he turned to me and said “I think you’re awesome for doing this on a singlespeed.” then rode off in front of me. That was it. My bottom lip started to go. The combination of someone saying something nice like that and knowing that I was only minutes away from finishing was quite overwhelming, so I had a bit of a sniffle. I stopped for a moment at the top of the last descent to pull myself together and tried to make myself look vaguely presentable for crossing the finish line, then off down that descent for the last time.

I crossed the finish line with an immense sense of relief. I hadn’t known for sure that I could do it, but I made it. My legs did their stuff and kept pedalling even when my head was telling them to give up.

I rolled back down to the pits amidst calls of well done from other riders and support crews. The beer I’d asked for on the finish line was waiting for me, but all I wanted was water, so the beer waited until later.
The prize giving saw the first ever UK Solo 24 hour champions crowned, as well as a rookie and a singlespeeder. To have been a part of it really felt like something special.
The support from my pit crew and other riders as well as the marshals, organisers and, of course, Joolz were all big contributing factors to me carrying on and not stopping when things got tough (or cold in my case). I know they won’t all be there next time, but they helped me get over the hurdle and reminded me that racing for me isn’t about being the fastest or strongest, it’s about having fun, riding with new people in new places and just pushing my body to see what it’ll do.

What’s next? Well, I’ve washed the bike and I’m planning a ride tomorrow evening, just for a few hours this time though. Oh and I need to buy a new pair of riding shoes.

Jac
x

24 Hours Solo

Guest blogger Amy decided that her first ever 24 hour solo race should be the national championships. Well there's nothing like aiming high to make you achieve more than you ever thought you could....

It was my first attempt at a 24hour race and I chose the inaugural national championships, to say I was nervous was an understatement. My bike had been checked over in the shop and Shaun and Chris shared their horror stories from previous races. I still had a last minute rush to get things sorted but we arrived at Newcastleton with plenty of daylight to set up our tent and I tried to get some sleep. Morning came quickly and I got the bike ready and my box of stuff for my pit crew and wandered over to briefing, there were a lot of very fit looking people there. I wondered if it was too late to change my mind. But no I had to get down to the Town for the official sign-on and then a neutral start; it was almost like being a pro!

Up the hill and round the first lap, the sun was out and I was chatting. Second lap and things were fine, third lap and the wheels came off, how could it happen so early? I dragged myself out for a fourth but I'd had enough, I announced I was retiring and on finding out a lot of the elite men had as well I felt justified, it was just too hot. I had forgotten all about my instructions to Ali and although she let me stop, once it cooled down she sent me out again, I really didn't want to. But I started working out how many laps I could do, I came up with a figure of 10 - double figures sounded good! So I had to keep going. Through the night was actually quite enjoyable although I could tell I was getting tired the previous flowing singletrack now seemed like a bunch of sharp corners I could barely get round.

The dawn lap was stunning and I was thinking of eleven laps, maybe even twelve. Coming in for the last longish stop after a faster lap I realised that thirteen might just be a possibility if I pushed. So change of clothes and out I went. Back with 1hr 50mins left for the last lap, should be fine, but I was slowing again with the heat. In the end I finished with at least 15minutes to spare. I was now a 24hour soloist.

I finished 34th overall, 5th Open Female, 6th Singlespeeder and 1st Female Singlespeeder. Oh and yes I want to do another one!

a mixed bag

Fi writes:

I was sick last week. In bed proper-ill with hallucinations and sweats. But soon kicked that before the weekend and went swimming in the local lake to 'see how I felt'. Bit dizzy but the cool water and banter with the other seals was amazing. Pootling there on my shopper, wetsuit folded into my pannier, I thought 'I love this city'. The lake is amazingly serene, surrounded by grass. It is clean and peaceful and dedicated for swimmers. Perfect Sunday morning.

Then the trails were crying out to be ridden. So I thought I'd test my wellness with a short 2 and a half hour ride with The Boy. Just One More Trail. Everything dusty and perfect. Then bbq and wine-drunkenness.

This week has been a mixed bag of marking in the garden with the dog sitting on my feet (yay), coughing and tight chestedness after-glow of The Bug (boo), two great swim sessions (yay), blisters from kayaking on the ergo in the garden (to the amusement of the neighbours) (boo), an awesome 20mile tt with one of the Roadie Chicks (yay) and Not Enough Running (boo).

Summer Is Glorious.

PS. Anyone coming to Bristol Bikefest?

crashing

the worst crashes are the stupid ones.

standing still, bike feels odd, maybe i have a flat, look down at rear tyre, lose balance, no time to get clipped out, plenty of time to stick arm out, tears, swearing, horrid sicky feeling.

going fast, middle moor, why am i trying to follow matt's line, why hasn't mike come by yet, this is fun but possibly too fast, slow for the bridge, where's the front wheel going, bite lip, swearing, horrid sicky feeling.

bruises on bruises. i think i might take up knitting.

j.

Between rides...

I like to bake PINK CAKES!

Fi

Learning to Love Hills

I don’t like hills… mostly because I’m not much good at them.

When I’m racing, any time that I make up on the techy sections I lose threefold on the climbs. When I’m out riding with friends, by the time I get to the top of the hills, a red, puffing mess, everyone else is champing at the bit and ready to go again.

The people I know who are good at climbing tell me that they actually enjoy hills. There must be some sort of correlation.

So, my challenge is to make myself start liking hills. How do I plan to do this? Well, I’ve changed my commute home so that instead of riding straight home, I take the long route that involves lots of hills. When I’m out riding with friends, I’m going all out on the hills.

I don’t know if it’ll work or if I’ll ever like hills any more than I do just now, but I’m ravenous by the time I get home from work and my thighs are starting to look a bit different!

Jac

Touring

Last week I had one of those moments when you want to just take off... I was thinking about hopping over to Europe and pedalling my way through olive groves and lemon trees for a week.

But I settled on Exmoor for a day and a half. That's all I could squeeze in.

My friend Kat and I set off in the blustery cold wind and pedalling clear of Bristol before most people were scraping their bacon rinds in the bin. We spun round the airport and laughed at the plane spotters, roared down the steep hill to the Mendips and quickly shot out to the Quantock hills. A sweaty, backbreaking climb later and we were drinking our first pot of tea and scouring the map for the best route.

Another few tens of miles later and we were pedalling beneath the tall mottled beach hedges of Exmoor, glimpsing the sea to our right, then plunging down towards Wimbelball Reservoir and up again to Bampton for doughnuts and coffee on the pavement. 5 hours done. Lovely.

A quick check of the phone reminded me we had been invited to stop by a friend's house for a paddle in the hot tub if we had time. Only 20 miles away and en route. Did we have time?

A final 9 miles and we were at our destination for wine, casserole, cats and an open fire. Thanks Mum and Dad!

9hours sleep later we were up and the sky had cleared ready for our 50 mile spin back home and to work. The roads were busy and the peace of Exmoor had disappeared as we ploughed into a bright windy morning, taking it in turn to pull on the front. A little less conversation, a little more concentration but a decent pace and Bristol was soon just around the corner.

Home. Food. Work. Conference papers. Marking. Deadlines. Normality returns. Bah!

gorrick enduro - rain of some distinction.

at lorraine's on saturday night there is an unhealthy amount of talk about tyres over dinner. we reason that because racing is now our normal mode of operation, we have nothing more important to worry about and it's simply a sign of spare operational capacity. we go to bed hoping it will rain hard overnight as predicted and when it's still dry in the morning there are grumbles and some last-minute switching of rubber.

lap one: too fast, as always. a retrospective look back at timelaps shows it was the fastest girls' lap of the entire race and that is not big or clever when there are another six to go. still, i have new kit to christen and it needs to be done in style. halfway in it starts to rain. i rejoice and give thanks to my wtb raijin which will now get its chance to shine rather than simply battering me about the arse for six hours.

lap two: properly raining by now, all four layers of clothing are soaked. it is brutally cold and i can't stop shivering. i can see my hands and feet are still attached to my arms and legs but they're not connected to my brain anymore. shifting requires me to mash the levers with the heel of my hand and braking is accomplished by unclenching two fingers from the bar, fastening them carefully around the lever and locking the fist again with a visual check to make sure everything's in the right place. i have not been this miserable whilst racing in a long time and at the end of the lap there are already lots of withdrawals. i figure i stand more chance of getting warm again if i keep riding, so don't stop.

lap three: the rain is easing but it's not getting any warmer. it's not particularly muddy by uk standards but when i dab the front brake coming into the steepest part of the labyrinth absolutely nothing happens. woah! i gain a instant refresher in the importance of commitment and berms. ride on carefully getting colder and colder and slower and slower, using bushes and softer mud to slow progress whilst wondering what to do. at the end of lap three i borrow a jersey from a friend and head out again with renewed vigour. i will finish this, i just have to preserve what's left of my brake pads and try to remember not to brake.

lap four: i forget not to brake on the first descent of the lap. the wail of metal on metal doesn't cease when i let go of the lever and suddenly control is no longer a problem as something unseen is impeding my progress. one piston is jammed half-out of the caliper and the brake is now permanantly on. this is going to be expensive. it is also incredibly hard work to pedal against and this is the longest lap in the world. i dither about by the pit for a bit but once the fluffy jacket of comfort is on and i get a proper look at the brakes it's clear i am going nowhere. lorraine is the next to appear and also has no brakes left, despite having fitted a second pair of pads on lap three. we agree that although we have the inclination, continuing in these conditions is just silly.

we leave a cheerful rory preparing to head out for his sixth and final winning lap and make an unceremonious dash for the comforts of home, collecting silverware and prizes from a rueful ben as we go, and spend the rest of the afternoon waiting with increasing impatience for the curry house to open its doors.

lessons: be careful what you wish for and take winter gloves to every race, even in may. showers and central heating are simply fantastic. curry houses don't open at 4pm on sundays.

j.

Road Racing

Fi writes:

I have large blisters on the palms of both hands. Ouch! These appeared on lap 3 of a 9.5 lap closed circuit race at Millbrook Circuit, yesterday. The hills were fierce, the decents fast and fun and the wind brutal. I have been racing for the Fred Baker Women's RR team this year and the Bedford 2 day stage race was my second outing for them - part of the national women's team series. Two weeks ago I raced at Maidenhead with two team mates and managed to stay with the bunch. I love the exhilaration of the bunch - grappling for position, holding your line and your nerve round the corners with adrenaline-fuelled ladies twitching their handlebars milimeters from yours. I love the energy, the excitement, the total unBritishness of of it all. Suits me.

So I was looking forward to Bedford. There were 6 of us in our team from Bristol for this race plus our Directeur Sportif and a couple of WAGS (or should I say HABS). The first day was a 50 mile road race on the open road, after a team tt. The Team tt was great fun and we ditched two of our riders (who sacrificed themselves for the greater good) and the four who remained saw the team finish in a respectable time half way down the list. Good effort girls... since we only do once of these in a blue moon!

The road race was fiercely windy. How is it possible to have a head wind on all four sides of a square? The first lap had me wondering what on earth I was doing there. It was seriously fast and I was burning matches fast. There was a short steep climb after some undulations where the prime was (and finish) and I just about hung on for lap one but on lap two (of 5) I didn't have the oomph to stay with the bunch as they disappeared into the distance and battled on for a lap on my own.

This was a terrible mistake. Eventually two of my team mates in a chasing bunch of 15 caught me but I was so battered from my lone lap that I couldn't cling to them after the climb and got shelled at the same point. I didn't know what to do and being inexperienced thought it was sensible to pull out and save myself for day 2.

I stopped, faffed, tried to find our DS. Failed, turned around, pedalled on, turned back again. Then I asked directions to the race HQ and started to pedal slowly towards it... at which point our last remaining team mate, in a group of about 8, caught me up and I started to ride with them. I decided, as they were moving pretty steadily, to do one final lap with them and then pull. Well, as it happened we all got pulled because of the time gap on the leaders, but becuase we were pulled and didn't retire we were allowed to race day 2 - which I wouldn't have been allowed to had I stopped! Thank goodness I faffed for so long before deciding what to do! I never normally retire from races but thought it was the 'done thing' in rr. Obviously not.

Valuable lessons learnt (about having a contingency plan if/when you don't stay with the bunch), we moved on to the second day.

Day 2 arrived and I had the bit between my teeth to prove myself (to myself - my team were lovely about my mishap) after a disappointing day 1. My individual tt was respectable given my legs were screaming and my bike is rubbish compared with most. One of our team who had retired lent me her pimpy wheels so I had a bit of help. Thank you Kat!

Millbrook Circuit is hilly, quite technical and the wind was fierce. Ruth, Gillian and I stayed in the bunch for the first 3 climbs but then the bunch was stretched and smashed to smitherines by the Maxgear and Horizon girls who weigh 6 stone and are supreme climbers. Gillian and I got caught in a chasing bunch and Ruth cramped (after her supreme tt effort earlier) and was in the bunch a few minutes down.

Gillian and I stuck in and worked with the group, who luckily were a very experienced group of girls. We rode hard and fast and mopped up more riders as we stormed through. Each climb was exhausting and as I said, I have rubbed big holes in the palms of my hands from turning over the hoods. But each time I made it with the group and caught some time and some breathe on the descent before plunging back into the head wind and around the 'speed bowl' (in the photo).

Gillian and I supported each other with breathless words of encouragement as we rode past during our through and off. It was the hardest 50 miles I have ever ridden and when we hugged at the finish I knew we were both desperately grateful to have survived it without being pulled and very pleased with our performance.

The whole team had a great weekend full of ups and downs and amazing performances. Although the scenery isn't exactly what I'm used to when mountain biking, road racing is purely exhilarating and leaves you with a deep fatigue from hours putting in max effort chasing lycra-clad pairs of legs into a head wind.

Time to recover now, and prepare myself for my first big Adventure Race of the year. Nothing if not varied! I need to get some running and kayaking in!

time of year.

quiet rides.

j.

Iberian Adventures - part 2.

I’m not sure how to begin to explain what the Saturday race was like – I’m still trying to digest everything we saw! 110k, 80% off road, 3970m of climbing (and descending) through some of the most amazingly remote scenery and terrain. The area we were riding in was very sparsely populated, but the villages we did ride through were like stepping back in time…chickens, goats, sheep and cows running around the streets and ox pulling farm carts along the roads. We also rode through an abandoned village called Drave which sat at the bottom of a gorge only accessible by a fantastic techy, rocky descent and climb back out with a pretty sheer drop off the side of the (which very few folks other than Chris and I rode…all those toothy descents at Ciclo paid off!). The village was very isolated, but had a lovely stream to re-fill water bottles and camelbacks (and dunk heads in because it was about 30 degrees by this time!). We also rode across rocky moorland plateau, roman cobbled tracks, pave roads, knee deep snow melt streams, buff singletrack, dried-up stream beds, scree slope descents, medieval packhorse trails…..you name it, we rode it. All the little churches we rode past seemed to play fantastic tunes with their bells, which sent us off on the next climb. Top that all off with encouraging shouts of “Forca!” from locals and other riders, it was quite amazing.

We were both so awe-struck by what we saw that we ended up stopping periodically just to take it in and take photos. Obviously that’s not the best race strategy, but it was a bit of an adventure too, so we didn’t mind.



It was a big old day’s riding and we both really suffered with the heat. I was at least a little bit acclimatised after my week in Spain, so didn’t suffer quite as much as I had last year, but Chris was really suffering by mid-afternoon and we had to make frequent stops at any stream or fountain we came across so that he could dunk his head in to cool off.

The organisers knew that we’d be suffering with the heat, so they periodically appeared by the side of the trail to make sure that we were okay. When we eventually rolled over the finish line, we got a big cheer and big hugs and smiles from them all. We had taken a lot longer to complete the day than we had expected, because we had to slow right down in the heat (and also because we stopped several times to take in the views and take photos), but we had still managed to pass lots of other riders, mostly because we were able to ride most of the techy stuff and make up a lot of time that way. So we certainly weren’t very high up the leaderboard, but we were far from last…there were still teams coming in after dark!



We decided that because we’d taken so long to do stage one and Chris was badly de-hydrated and broken because of the heat, we wouldn’t really be able to finish day two, then make the 6 hour drive back to Spain. So, instead of racing day 2, we took the tourist option and went sight seeing before heading back over the border to Spain.

So, Portugal beat us again, but we’ve decided that we’re definitely going to go back to try the Geo-Raid again next year with a bit more time for travelling before and after the race so that there’s less time pressure.

Jac.

Iberian Adventures (Portugal 2 – Jac 0)

Jac's been on holiday. She calls it racing but we think it's just an excuse for an early tan... ;)



After last year’s mixed success at the Trans Portugal, when one of the riders I met there suggested I try the Geo-Raid, the idea of another adventure was just too much to resist. However, the logistics were a bit more complicated that I hoped they would be.

The Geo-Raid is a 3 race series organised by Ciclonatur (the folks who run the Trans Portugal, which in itself indicates a bloomin’ good race and great hospitality and food). The series consists of 3 two-day enduro races all of which are pairs races. Like the Trans Portugal, there’s no course marking – it’s a GPS based race. Also like the TP, the race is handicapped. The idea is that everyone should finish by a given time in the evening, so depending on age and gender, you’re set off at different times in the morning, with the fittest, fastest young lads being set off last. The series is spread across the spring, summer and autumn, with each race being held in different areas of Portugal.

After not very much persuasion, we opted to have a bash at the first race (mostly because we knew that the races later in the year would be much, much hotter and, after the heatstroke at the TP last year, that would be an issue!). The first race was based in a small spa town called Sao Pedro do Sul in the north central mountainous region of Portugal. Both of the two days start and finish in the same place, so we could make Sao Pedro our base for the weekend.

However, as I said, logistics were a bit of a problem. After we’d entered the race and started looking at how we’d get there, we discovered that there are no flights from Scotland to anywhere other than the Algarve in the very south of Portugal. It’s an awful long drive from the Algarve to Sao Pedro on not very great roads, so that wasn’t going to be an option. What we came up with was a grand plan to fly direct to Madrid, hire a car and boot it westwards to Portugal. We figured it would be about a 5 or 6 hour drive from Madrid to Sao Pedro, so, for a weekend, vaguely do-able.

But when I realised I’d not be able to do my usual spring trip to Ciclo Montana in the south of Spain as well as a spring trip to Portugal, I had to get my thinking cap on. I came up with a bit of a plan which worked out… just. I flew out to Malaga from Glasgow then headed up to the Sierra Nevada for 6 days of “uphill traversing” and “toothy” singletrack descending with Mark and Jacky (although Mark factored in a lot more uphill traversing to give me some extra training for Portugal…. thanks!) before heading to Granada airport to catch a flight to Madrid where I met Chris.

Everything went smoothly and we managed to meet up in the massive Madrid airport, get the hire car and start the drive across La Mancha, Castile y Leon and across the border into Portugal. As far as road trips go, it was pretty good! Dramatic mountains and flat plains, oh, and the massive monument in El Escorial (built by Franco in a similar style to the giant Jesus in Rio).



The drive took a lot longer than expected, so we didn’t arrive in Sao Pedro until almost 10pm… just in time to get lots of hugs from the Ciclonatur folks, build the bikes, sign on, cram some food in, then bed. We were starting at 07.32 on the Saturday morning because of our handicap (me being a girl – not that being a girl is a handicap, but…) so not much time for socialising.

On the start line, my usual doubts set in when I saw the other teams. There were 8 teams all setting off at the same time as us – 7 mixed teams and one male team who were a bit older. The other mixed teams all looked REALLY fast! The usual leg check showed up some really strong (and all very tanned) looking legs and well as team kit that implied some pretty pro riders. Oh and there was also one girl with a tat on her calf…a sure sign that she’s a strong rider (you wouldn’t get a tat on your calf unless you were confident that your muscle tone was good!). Hey ho, my Minx jersey was MUCH prettier than their team kit and much more recognisable…it is more recognisable in the photos on the Geo-Raid website!

We ended up with an 8 minute time penalty before we started though, because our GPS went a bit wonky and started trying to tell us how to get from home to the start line. So we had to try to fix that before we started. Anyway, once that was fixed, we were off....



To be continued...

To spend your days in the sunshine

Sunshiney rides and ice creams, get 'em in while you can.

Vikki

The weather

Isn't it odd? Its bright and should be warm but its cold. But the trails are dry and the roadies are out in force.

I went on my first 'Chaingang' on Tuesday. Was dropped twice but fought my way back. First road race this weekend.

Am I excited? No I feel rubbish - under the weather. Why do we always talk about the weather?

So i'm having yet more rest days (surely they're only rest when you're not doing sport?) and hope I feel better by the weekend.

So frustrating.

new adventures in lo-fi

blissful weekend after blissful weekend.

south.



north.



more north.



common denominator? good friends.

onwards, into summer...

j.

F-B-R-O-T-Y

A Scottish Minx writes...

Because it’s been so snowy up this way over the last few months, it’s been kind of difficult to get out for any big off road rides – the hills are still pretty snowy! So, after months of being limited to trail centres, I needed somewhere different to ride.

So a few weekends ago we caught an early train from Edinburgh to Dundee to start the First Big Ride Of The Year. The plan was to ride the Fife Coastal Path from Dundee back to Edinburgh over 2 days.

The Fife Coastal Path is a 150 kilometer, mostly off road, trail that goes from Newport on Tay in the north of Fife all the way to North Queensferry in the south of Fife. The trail follows the Fife coast, as the name suggests, through Tentsmuir Forrest (which was an area of sand dunes which was forested by POW’s during the 2nd World War), past Leuchars RAF base, through St Andrews, along some isolated beaches to Fifeness, then along the south coast of Fife through some pretty little fishing villages in the East Neuk like Crail, Anstruther and Elie, then on through the more industrial / old mining parts of south Fife, through Kirkcaldy then on to North Queensferry.

Since we were travelling by train to the start, we had an extra few kilometers from the station in Dundee over the Tay Bridge to Newport on Tay (it’s probably not really more than 3 or 4km, but since Chris managed to leave his helmet on the train, we had to ride about a bit to find a bike shop before we could get started….my new Favourite bike shop, Bike Worx, opened half an hour early to serve us…how nice is that?). We also had an extra 20 km or so at the other end from North Queensferry back to home in Edinburgh.

Since we still have limited daylight, we decided to make an overnight stop in Elie and sample the delights of the Ship Inn. We stayed in the wee B&B next door to the Ship Inn, so we didn’t have to stumble too far to get dinner and a beer on Saturday evening (or to far to go home when we started falling asleep in our beer at 8pm!).

Since this was the first big ride I’ve done since last Autumn, I had completely forgotten that you’re meant to eat lots. So I bonked big time on Saturday. It didn’t dawn on me that I’d bonked…I just thought my legs had given up and I’d lost any fitness I had, it was only when I sat down despondently to look at the view and had some of the tonnes of food I’d stashed in my pack and pondered how I was going to manage to get to Elie before it got dark, that I realised that I had hardly touched any of the food I’d brought. Oops.



Somehow we managed to get lucky with the tides this time and we were able to ride almost 10 miles along pristine (ish), deserted beaches over the 2 days with nothing but views and our own tyre tracks in the sand. The only down side of that is that riding in sand for that long is pretty hard going, but it was worth it.

We were super lucky with the weather too and actually managed to take of some layers on Sunday. It wasn’t anywhere near warm enough to try exposing any skin to get some colour into our blue legs, but reducing it to 3 layers was a real treat!

With just 30 km to go, I managed to get a monster thorn in my front tyre…..so monster, in fact, that it went right through 2 sides of the tyre! The weather gods took pity on us though and made the sun shine even stronger and the wind die down completely while I fixed my tyre and got a new tube in.

Once we crossed the Forth Birdge, I could almost smell home, but there was still 20 km and that hill at Barnton before I could get that mug of tea and cake that I felt I’d earned. So near yet so far but we made it and the cat was ever so please to have us home again.

Next? My bags are packed and I’m ready to fly out to Spain tomorrow morning for a week of riding big hills before heading back to Portugal to have another go at racing there. Not the Trans Portugal this time – a 2 day enduro. Hopefully I’ll get a wee bit of sunshine but not quite as much heat as last time!



Jac.

What is it about walking?

I am learning to be patient with my knee. On the wise advice of a friend I'm not getting frustrated by the hills I have to either avoid or walk (I'm not allowed to ride anything that requires me stand on the pedals), and instead making the most of the swoopy corners and briefly sunny trails that I can ride. I've gone back to the pool and am loving swimming early morning laps and that lovely feeling you get when you minutely adjust the angle of your hand and immediately go faster for no extra effort. I know it makes me strange, but I don't get bored with counting tiles. And in the absence of allowed running but the need to get out of the house when I probably shouldn't be forcing the knee through more rotations for a second day in a row, I've even been (whisper it), walking.

I can't deny that I have enjoyed the ease that comes with just grabbing a jacket and being out of the door in ten seconds flat. I have loved getting reacquainted with the contents of my Shuffle (I know some people listen and ride - I can't), tracks from compilations dear to my heart, old favourites, sentimental stuff. (We shall not speak of the spontaneous dancing....) It's even been fun striding through the rain. But despite all of this, and even though seeing an hour's window of opportunity this evening I dashed out with what felt like enthusiasm, I reckon that I still really really don't like walking. Can anyone explain?

Minx

Time trials on 16 inches

Been a bad few weeks and my legs are twitching, not in a good way.

On the face of it starting a "proper" job that entailed being in an office 9-5 , 5 days a week didnt seem so bad. Until that is I realised quite how much riding I used to squeeze in when I "worked from home"...

Having crashed & burned quite badly on my first sprint race of the season I realised something creative had to be done.

Until its light enough for me to actually want to get up at 5am and cycle from Crowthorne to Old Street where I work then my chosen mode of commutership is a season ticket and a Dahon Curve folding bike...

....in Red:-)

I'm a girl... colour is very important and lets face it for £3oo there isnt going to be much of a "spec" to get excited about!

So now my days in the office are punctuated by two time trials trying to shave seconds off my commute at either end of the train journey without getting squished by a taxi, bus or white van man... although i have hit two pedestrians who just stepped onto the cycle path either not looking or not quite appreciating the speed one can get up to in top gear on a folder...and i get to spend a good 10 minutes a day practising track stands.... which are really not easy on a fold up bike. I always thought I would hate to commute to London everyday & when i thought i'd like to be able to ride everyday, this wasnt quite what I had in mind. But when I throw my leg over the two spindley stalks that pass for a stem and a seat post at 7am every morning I actually smile...

And then attempt to set a new speed record over speed humps on 16 inch wheels......:-)

Elaine

Walk this way

I did a LDWA (Long Distance Walk Association) Challenge today, the 18 mile Two Crosses event. As part of my marathon training I entered as a runner, not a walker, but seriously these LDWA types could lure me into abandoning running shoes or bike wheels in favour of some good old fashioned red socks and leather boots. They truly know how to lay on a good do! The first check point had a marquee, containing a buffet, more sandwiches, cake, jelly, hot soup, pies, biscuits and sweets than I knew what to do with. Further round the route another checkpoint had salted nuts and a selection of alcoholic beverages. The wobbily navigation following the wee dram of scotch was purely coincidental! Upon completion there was even more food and gallons of hot tea. Might be the only time I run 18 miles and end up in calorie credit.

If you fancy doing something different to your usual weekend activities and are looking for a way to have a fun and challenging day in the hills you could do a lot worse than look up your local LDWA and eat your way round a few miles of countryside.

Vikki

Updates

Fi writes:

Two substantial things have happened since I last blogged. Firstly, I went to Sierra Nevada for a week of gravity-loving, cactus-dodging, boulder-grazing madness. I can't describe the exhilaration of taking to the network of 'Danger-of-Death' rides, including the Extreme Towpath and Elephants Tail each morning after a three course breakfast.

It could actually be described as more of an eating holiday punctuated with cycling breaks. The food was amazing! And i learnt to ride steep twisting steps as we plunged down the mountainsides through little white villages desperately clutching to the (often sliding) landscape.

The other event of note was a wee running race I took part in on Friday night, starting just before midnight. You may have seen the news about Sir Ran Fiennes crashing his car in Stockport on Saturday lunchtime? Well he did the same race as me. The High Peak Marathon - 44 miles of bog, snow, mountains, rocks, icy flagstones, home made flapjack, luke warm hot chocolate and a sun rise that turned the snowy Pennine Way slate grey then bluebird blue.

Because we like drama, we settled on a sprint finish with another mixed team to squeeze in under the coveted 11 hour mark (by 9 seconds!) leaving them stranded another 19 seconds after...

What remained of the weekend was an interesting mix of mashed potato, sausages and gravy, sliding down handrails to ease the searing pain in my quads and making plans for next year (to go nearer 10 hours, obviously!)

A snowy Kinder Scout at dawn. If you haven't seen it, make a plan...