Bike: Trek
Distance: 100 miles
Time: 4 hours 22 minutes 16 seconds
Average speed: 22.877mph6th out of 28!
On the up side, a 6th place is my highest finish in an open time trial to date. This is balanced by the fact half the field either didn't start or didn't finish. Moreover, many of the country's fastest riders were doing the National 10 (which Michael Hutchinson won with one of the fastest times ever. Gill of the Willesden rode in the women's event and finished 45th).
On the down side, I failed to beat my previous best time over 100 miles. I'd planned my pacing to give me a 4:15, but this kind of went out of the window. To explain my chaotic hundred, the story must be told in full:
Hundred mile time trials usually start very early in the morning, as most of the field take between 4 and 5 hours to finish. I don't own a car or drive, so I had to find somewhere close to the HQ to stay the night before. I'd chosen this course because I'm pretty quick over the 10 mile (22:41) and 25 mile (57:27) versions, and I'd done the
WLCA 100 last year on it. Moreover, on that occasion I'd stayed at the Alton Four Marks Travelodge, which gave me an easy, straightforward ride to the HQ.
When I came to book my room, however, the Four Marks Travelodge was fully booked - I'd stupidly forgotten it was a Bank Holiday weekend. The website recommended Basingstoke as an alternative - this was only ten miles from the HQ, so I figured 'why not', clearly the thinking of a man who has never been to Basingstoke.
Yesterday, therefore, after eating a large bowl of pasta, I set off from my house at 2.30pm, aiming to arrive at the Travelodge before dark (largely because of the questionable status of the batteries in my LEDs). I was slightly waylaid by meeting and catching up with Em and Cara in Ipswich, although this filled me with cheer (and caffeine and glucose ... and plans to go windsurfing), and the subsequent cycle to Colchester station was with a very useful tailwind. By this point I'd alread done over 30 miles for the day with my infamous large rucksack weighing me down.
After all this, I didn't get to Waterloo til just after seven and caught the 7.23 train to Bentley. Lots of nostalgia associated with the South West Trains bike carriage! From Bentley the plan was to recce the alleged 10 mile route from the HQ to the Travelodge in order to avoid pre-race 'getting lost' drama. However, despite my possession of a handful of hastily printed-out maps, I could not avoid getting lost on the recce itself. The ride was initially very pleasant - countryside, pink-blue sunset, fresh conditions. As darkness began to fall, however, I began to panic that none of the locations I was passing through appeared on my map! One of these uncharted sights was an eerie airfield, used for glider lessons. I'd obviously missed a turning, so I made the decision to get on the nearest A-road and pelt it to Basingstoke, hoping my lights held out. In the end, I had 'only' gone 6 miles off route, but this meant I'd accumulated 50 miles for the day, the day before a 100 TT...
I therefore didn't see much of Basingstoke, owing to the darkness (alas!), but it did have a lot of roundabouts. The suspiciously friendly Travelodge receptionist was surprisingly proud of this fact, saying it knocked Milton Keynes into a cocked hat. He looked less happy when, after he'd given me my key, I brought in my bike and hauled it up the stairs to my room.
It was now 10 o'clock, I put the TV on and Eurovision blared out. I quickly escaped this, found a petrol station over the road and spent too much money on overpriced pasta salad, pot noodle, crisps and 4 pints of milk. I consumed all of this in about 15 minutes and felt awful. Fell asleep about 11.30, woke up periodically throughout the night, and got up for good just after 5. Made a cup of horrible instant coffee with lots of sugar and looked out of the window...
...Basingstoke Travelodge now had a swimming pool where its car park used to be, and it was filling up rapidly.
The rain which had been forecast had arrived with a vengeance. By this point, the entire trip had cost me about £100 so I was a bit peeved about the seeming inevitable cancellation of the event, but also slightly relieved because at 5 in the morning, your brain and body don't really want to ride 100 miles at speed.
Still, I figured I'd go to the HQ regardless and see what was afoot. The receptionist looked a bit shocked to see me boldly trekking out of the door and cycling off into the murky distance. I took the same route I'd done the night before, given that my map was buried at the bottom of my rucksack, so I 'warmed up' over sixteen miles of rain (which was easing off) and general road filth.
At the HQ, I collapsed into a sodden pile and glared at all the other, dry competitors (who had, of course, driven to the event). It seemed the event was going ahead, though a small alarm was raised owing to a downed power cable in the area.
There was no getting out of it. With 45 minutes to go, I realised I'd have to ride the hundred. But, by this point, my tired mind just wasn't there. I decided to ride on feel, to see how I went. It didn't feel or look like a quick day, so I just wanted to get round. 'Put it down to training' said the voice in my head, 'There are always other 100s you can ride later' said the other, masochistic voice in my head.
None of this was addressing the problem of my damp lycra, so I went and stood under the hand-drier for a bit. Already it was clear there would be a large number of DNS-s. I guess most people, waking up to heavy rainfall, probably went back to bed. By this point, however, the rain had ceased though the sky remained gloomy. I dreaded what the dual carriageway would be like if there was much standing water.
Pedalled off to the start, keeping my rear LED on (this must've cost me, ooh, at least 10 minutes!) for visibility's sake, though if a motorist can't spot a six-foot-plus cyclist in bright green lycra, then perhaps they should have their eyes tested.
I was off at 07:49, so I knew I wouldn't finish til the afternoon (i.e. the time I'd usually be waking up); I had cereal bars in my pocket, I had two bottles of energy drink, and some gels stuffed up my shorts. Importantly, I knew I could do the distance, the only question was how I'd do it. In the event I did it pretty badly, though at least I didn't puncture.
The first lap I kept panicking about getting a flat tyre and every sensation on the bike was magnified tenfold. Also, one of my bottle cages was loose and at one point a bottle came out and wedged against my leg. Not good. One hairy moment when a vehicle passed and sent a load of spray in my direction.
However, I did the first 25 miles reasonably quickly - 1:03 - which was 2 minutes off the pace for a 4:15, but right on target for a 4:20. However, at this point I realised I would have to stop to answer the call of nature. I had hydrated too much beforehand, damn my weak bladder. I calculated this cost me between 1 and 2 minutes, and set off again.
This period of the race - between 25 and 50 miles - was the worst, focus-wise and I wasn't riding smoothly, possibly being over-cautious. At 50 miles, however, I picked it up again. Passing the start point on the other side of the road, I saw Lidia and John had made it. They'd offered to come along and hand me water bottles, and we'd arranged a complex scheme, but, given the weather, I'd kind of written off any hope of them actually turning up. I certainly wouldn't have done it! I wonder if this is what they thought married life would be like, lurking around dual carriageways early on a Sunday morning to hand up bottles to a bedraggled eccentric.
Anyway, I couldn't show weakness after this, and ground out the next 50 miles, despite hurting and feeling very slow. Had a nasty tight sensation down my right hand side, my right shoulder was also starting to ache. My legs were shot to pieces. But I kept going: when the time came to pick up my first bottle (after 60 miles), I stopped because I was too shaky and slippery to attempt it 'on the hoof'. I said something or other to my team, possibly not sounding very grateful, and pedalled off again. I then dropped one of my own bottles, so it was very lucky Lidia and John did turn up...
By this point, every sip of Lucozade, though helping, was making me feel sick. My two-minute-man who I'd overtaken on my flying first lap re-overtook me shortly after I'd picked up my second bottle on 80 miles, but he didn't take much time back (he finished 8th). He did provide me with a kick up the arse (metaphorically speaking) however, and I really dug in the last 20 miles. Your mind kind of goes blank during the last 10 miles, ignoring the urgent signs that you really are pushing too hard.
Crossed the line in 4:22:16 - given I was anticipating a disaster of 4:24 or more, I was pleased with that result. A bit annoyed with myself for stopping three times because this probably cost me over a minute, and had I applied myself a little more I may have been able to take a small chunk out of my PB.
Nonetheless, I'm glad I did it. For all my complaining, it does take a certain amount of mental strength to do one of these. The mind goes long before the body, if you let it, and then you're in trouble. John asked me afterwards what I thought about during the race - answer: absolutely nothing beyond keeping my legs turning and working out what I had left in the tank, as well as various calculations as to what speed I should maintain etc. etc. I hardly drifted from my train of thought once, though I developed a weird tic, in that I kept closing my left eye when the pain kicked in.
It was nice to have Lidia and John there after I'd finished, though I probably didn't show enough gratitude - I was totally spent and a bit 'out of it'. I am however enormously grateful - it was a big boost to know people had come out to watch and that I couldn't let them (or myself) down! The drinks were much appreciated, and undoubtedly helped me do a decent time for the conditions (though two guys did sub 4-hour times, which is just terrifying). They also took plenty of pictures, some of which adorn this report.
We cycled back to the HQ where I got changed and eventually got some coffee and cake in me. I was even spotted smiling! As the results filtered in, realised I came 6th, which put another smile on my face. We then set off to Bentley to catch a train back to London.
When we arrived, we'd just missed a train by 5 minutes - if only I'd gone faster in the race! - but this wasn't so much of a problem, and we spent the next hour on the station drinking coffee and eating the cake Lidia and John had brought along. Moreover, unlike many people I know, it is not a problem to spend ages talking about bikes to these two! In fact, they know a lot more about them than I do, so it's educational as well as entertaining. Amazingly, it was also sunny at this point.
Got off the train at Surbiton, had a shower, had more coffee, and then the three of us made short work of burgers at the local pub. I then said farewell, and began the long journey home. The sky had become threatening again by the time I got to Waterloo, and I barely kept awake on the train from London to Colchester. I then faced a 20 mile ride back to Shotley. I had no dry socks left, my legs hurt, my right foot hurt, my eyes wanted to close, I had nothing left, but I somehow made it, possibly with liberal use of my bottom gear. I pulled up my driveway just before 9 o'clock, had some toad-in-the-hole and then fell asleep with the lights on. 145 miles for the day.
Just again to reiterate thanks to Lidia and John - that went far beyond the call of duty - and big thanks to the Hounslow and District Wheelers for a great event, especially the marshals for whom standing out on those roundabouts for an entire morning can't have been fun.
