Waiting to start in the Olympic Park |
Another sportive, another "extreme
weather warning" from the organisers. But while the Etape was hit withyour common-or-garden variety low cloud, cold and mountain rain, Sunday's
LondonSurrey100 was in the direct path of Hurricane Bertha.
But that was almost the only similarity
between the two closed road rides. While the Etape was about learning a little
of the reality of riding roads previously only glimpsed on television as the
Tour climbed and descended them, RideLondon was about transforming the mundane
into fantasy.
Because I knew these roads, trained on
them, grew up with them in fact, but on Sunday I owned them. The buses, cars,
HGVs and pedestrians were gone. There were bikes and only bikes, and only going
one way - the way I was riding.
Prudential's RideLondonSurrey100 is in its
second year. Incredibly popular (24,000 signed up), this ride cashes in on road
cycling's rising popularity in the UK to try and replicate the success of the
London Marathon for bikes.
Leaving 2012's Olympic park, cycling by
the Velodrome where Laura Trott et all won gold two years ago, it takes off
through central London - spinning through the heart of the city then along the
Thames before heading down and out through Richmond Park, Kingston and then
into Surrey to find some hills.
These were the first of my out-of-body
experiences. I've been through or around Richmond Park on a bike more than 70
times in the last couple of years - it's my go to training ride. More, I was
brought up a few minutes' walk from Kingston gate - this is where I learnt to
ride a bike as a child, walked the dog and kicked a ball around with friends.
Today it was nothing but cyclists, there
wasn't even the risk of a stray deer crossing the road as barriers protected
us. I flew. These were my roads, and there was nothing to stop me. Apart from
the other cyclists, of course.
I averaged almost 35kph in the Park - setting new personal
records on Sawyers' Hill, scything through the gaps other cyclists left. We
exited the park and spun along Queen's road, past the house of an old family
friend, past my primary school, past red lights and not stopping at junctions.
Screaming down Kingston Hill - at one
point past actual cheerleaders, with pompoms and everything - at more than
40kmh average.
I was going hard at the start, 20 miles
in I was averaging more than 36kph, heat rate generally around 160, driving up
3% hills at 32kph and finding almost no wheels to follow.
Coming out of Kingston and running down
to Hampton Court a group of five riders came by at around 40kph, I latched onto
the back. We stayed together for five or six kilometres, while my average speed
rose to 38kph and my effort reduced. I came onto the front to do my turn, they
stayed with me, then I lost them as I tried to drift back and regain my place
in the train as we hit a junction.
At this point the rain hadn't started.
But it was coming - and soon. We'd been
warned, but not really believed - Saturday was sunny and warm and the morning,
while overcast, had been benign. But the organisers were so worried about it
they'd cut two of the three hills (and more importantly their descents) from
the route for safety reasons. So no Box Hill, no Leith Hill and no 100-mile
ride. It had been cut to 86.
But this time there wasn't a mountain todescend in 5-degree temperatures (excl wind-chill) with no visibility. It was
wet, but warm. I almost entirely disregarded the "wear waterproofs"
advice - in the end pulling on a weather resistant gilet, wearing a cap to keep
as much of the rain from my sunglasses as possible and leaving it at that.
When it hit there was no escape. The
rain fell so hard it stung any exposed skin. Your face, your arms, your legs.
It felt like angry hail.
The wind turned flats into climbs. My
speed dropped. Water pooled on the roads and drafting became an exercise in
eating spray from other riders' tyres - crossing a man-hole cover on a corner
meant road rash.
Puddles became ponds, then small lakes. Entire sections of roads under a foot of water - climbing Coombe Hill late in the ride the drains on the road became geysers: spouting water into the air as they failed to handle the quantity of water falling from the sky. A warning cone floated gently across the water under a rail bridge in Esher.
Puddles became ponds, then small lakes. Entire sections of roads under a foot of water - climbing Coombe Hill late in the ride the drains on the road became geysers: spouting water into the air as they failed to handle the quantity of water falling from the sky. A warning cone floated gently across the water under a rail bridge in Esher.
@Cunningham_UK @GeordieClarke @FinanceJames Good pic of flooding 30 miles in, us early starters got lucky pic.twitter.com/2O1533XNhZ
— Peregrine Roscorla (@BigPud) August 11, 2014
I got wet, then wetter, then wet
through. But I wasn't cold. I stopped carefully coasting through puddles (it
wouldn't keep me drier) and started riding through. Corners were taken as straight
as possible, often hindered by other riders being far more cautious than me.
My mission was to get this over with as
fast as possible - but I was starting to hurt. I'd gone off too hard and not
drunk enough. My legs were feeling it and I couldn't find a wheel I was happy
following. I took Newlands Corner – the only thing left on the course that
could be described as a hill - easy, really easy, and stopped at the ‘hub’ at
the top for a few minutes to eat, drink, rest my back and - er - relieve
myself.
This helped, but my average speed was
dropping. From 36.1kph after 40km, I was down to 33.5kph as we buzzed back into
London.
Adding in the break stop (which was only
a few minutes, but I hadn't timed) I was at serious risk of missing a 20mph
average time. I've never had a long ride with a 20mph (32.2kph) average. I
would rarely get a better opportunity.
I dialled it back up. Speed less than
35kph? Push harder. Heart rate under 155, push harder. Flat road? Push harder. Descent?
Push. People beside the road handing out gels and water like it was a feeding
zone in a pro race? I went by without pulling over.
Great to see so many cyclist out in the heavy rain #london100 pic.twitter.com/sEesaAvHIS
— RichG (@RichGayton) August 10, 2014
(so much rain - keep pushing...)
At some point in the final 10 miles I
passed my flatmate. I've no clue when. At another I was drafting then pushing
when I heard someone talking to my left, it was Laura Trott riding with and her
sister and father. I almost entirely missed them too, catching only the word
"Trott" as I rode by then frantically glancing back to confirm the
pretty blonde was wearing Wiggle Honda kit.
I was eating as much as I could to
sustain the effort, I was almost done and I was damned if I was going to miss
out by seconds.
The ride briefly coincided with my
commute to work as we approached the Mall and the finish, I wanted to take the
time to relish a road with no cars, but was busy pushing.
How tired was I at this point? Well,
with a clear run up, no cars, busses or lights and on a road bike, I didn't top
my best time when commuting with a backpack on a single speed. Not even close.
But I was still running above 36kph. We hit “1 mile to go” sign by Big Ben - I
left the saddle with a battle cry and pushed harder again.
Finally rounding Trafalgar Square and
running down the Mall I pushed to 40kph, slip streamed another rider and
sprinted for the line... I got the sprint wrong, leaving it too late and only
hitting 45kph before the clock cut me off.
It rained – a lot – it was 14 miles shy
of a century, but as I pulled into the finishing zone and the sun came out, I'd
done it. 86 miles in 4:13:24 - a 20.2mph average. I collected my medal, goody
bag (containing vitamins for the over-50s) and started the ride home.
Because that's another thing different
between this ride and the Etape - rather than a two hour coach ride to the
hotel, packing my bike and clothes away, two more hours to the airport in
another coach, checking in, flight, waiting for luggage, and hour-long taxi to
get home; today I was just 4 miles from a shower, warm clothes, beer and my own
bed to collapse in if I chose.
Not me, but a good example of rain at the finish - Image: Surrey County Council News https://www.flickr.com/photos/surreynews/ |