Weathering Wales Day 1 - A Ferry Long Wait - Pembroke to the Gower

8:30 AM, rise and shine from my last cosy sleep for the next 2 weeks. Despite being completely wired the night before, I had slept well. I was essentially all packed and just had some final touches to my packing before going out the door on this long anticipated adventure. Today the goal was to get to the Gower, a hefty trip of 122km. It seemed like I had plenty of time. The key time-sensitive element of today's trip was the Llansteffan ferry. The schedule changed daily due to the tides, and today it was leaving at 3 PM. I had to make this ferry; otherwise, I would have an extra 30 km to ride to get around on land. With that in mind, I had to leave Pembroke by 10 AM. Otherwise, I might have aimed to leave much earlier, around 8 AM, so this made for a more relaxed start. However, when you're wandering around in circles, still thinking of new little things, time has a way of disappearing. Every few minutes, I thought of something else—checking tire pressure, adjusting my saddle, or repacking a bag just in case. The time to leave was fast approaching it seemed to be taking an age to get out the door. Finally I was all set up on the driveway, about to leave when I noticed the Ortlieb bracket for my handlebar bag was loose. I went to tighten it, felt a snap, and my heart sank when I realized I had sheared the bolt! Cue the emergency cable ties! Before I knew it, what had started as a leisurely morning had turned into a frantic rush against the clock. Finally, I rolled out at 10:15 AM, but I carried the stress with me. Thankfully, I had factored in an hour for incidents just like this!

Almost ready to go, before my Ortlieb bracket snapped!

Finally on my way!

It took the first 30 km or so on familiar local roads to unwind, with a steady climb to Reynalton and then to Tavernspite. I focused on getting used to the weight of the bike and easing into tourist mode, resisting the urge to clock-watch.  I started to relax a bit, enjoying the long sweeping descent from Red Roses down to Llanddowror. For a few glorious minutes, it was just me, the bike, and the joy of freewheeling momentum. I even practised a few moments of aero position on the butterfly handlebars, which got the heartrate back up again! The plan was to get some lunch in St Clears, but as I arrived there, my feelings changed. It was probably another hour to Llansteffan—if I just pressed on, I could have lunch there, knowing exactly how much time I had left. I decided to pushed on.

I knew the road to Llansteffan would be hilly, but even still, I was not prepared for just how hilly it was. The road was relentless— particularly on one long drag to a place called Llangynog, the false hope of a dip and then another steep climb that wasn't really long but really had some teeth to it. My legs were already heavy, the energy drained from them earlier than I had expected. Doubts started creeping in—was I really prepared for 14 days of this? If I was feeling this exhausted halfway through the first day, how was I going to manage the days to come? Every metre of incline chipped away at my confidence, making me question if I had taken on more than I could handle. I was already feeling worn out, and I wasn’t even halfway through the day. Then, finally, the road tipped downward. I could see evidence of the sea as I enjoyed the free speed and the breeze on my face. And finally the sign I was looking for. Welcome to Llansteffan.

I reached Llansteffan at 2 PM, giving me a full hour before the ferry's departure. I spun around to a nearby café, ordered my lunch, and sat outside on the grass. When it arrived, I promptly wolfed it down, grateful for the break and the chance to regroup before the next stage of the journey. The wait by the beach made me antsy, nervously watching for the ferry. I had asked at the café about where the ferry would be, as there was no jetty or anything visible. The young lady told me there was a flag on the beach and that I would see people waiting there. However, when I returned to the beach, this was not so clear. No sign of a flag, no sign of a ferry. Quite a few people appeared to be waiting around, but the lack of clarity was disconcerting for me. One of the guys from work during the week had jokingly offered me lift if things went pearshaped on Day 1. I had shrugged it off at the time, but here I was thinking about what I would do if the ferry didn't arrive. The alternative was at least an extra 30km of cycling, or another 2 hours at the rate I was going.

While I was waiting, some people took an interest in my packed bike, asking about my trip, unwittingly unlocking a strange conflict of emotions. At first, I spoke proudly about my ambitious 14-day tour, but this quickly turned to sheepishness when I revelaed I was only halfway through Day 1! I met another traveller, who confirmed he was also waiting for the ferry. He seemed to share a similar uncertainty about the arrival. I decided to stress about new things. There were many people hanging around - would they even let me on with the bike? What about when I got off on the other side? Was there a check in time for the campsite I had to get to? I was hardly going to get there before 7 - I hadn't even thought about that before now!

Finally, at around 3:05, I spotted the ferry across the bay. It made its way over surprisingly quickly, and I started moving down onto the beach, trying to guess where it would ultimately land, drawing an arc in the sand with my heavy, sinking bike. As I approached, I quickly asked the captain—who bore an uncanny resemblance to Captain Birdseye—if the bike would be okay on board. He smiled and assured me it was fine. It was only then that I looked around and realized that, out of the crowd on the beach, only one other person was actually ferry-bound!

Finally my ferry arrives!

Once I had taken all the bags off the bike to hoist it onto the boat, I struck up a conversation with the other traveler, who, as it turned out, was also named Brian. He knew Captain Birdseye personally and had planned to surprise him. He could have called ahead while we were both waiting in uncertainty, but he didn’t want to ruin the surprise. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that! . With only the 3 of us on board I decided to try recording a video with my 360 camera on its 1m selfie stick — my first venture into being an embarrassing tourist. 

After Ferryside, and the faff getting my bike and luggage off the ferry first and then off the stoney beach, I hit a lovely coast road which turned out to be surprisingly busy - not in an overbrearing way. I just really needed to pee and the frequenecy of cars just about prevented me from doing so! I was genuinely worried about the campsite check-in time. It was 3.20pm now and I still had 60km to go. I did know that this half of the trip would be much flatter than the first half so I pressed on. Kidwelly, or the route I took through it, was a little underwhelming so I didn'treally take in the sights here. I then quickly found myself on a cycleway on what appeared to be an old canal towpath that brought me into Burry Port. From here, I got onto the very pleasant Millenium Path to Llanelli and just flew along here. I think ordinarily a person on holidays might take in this area more - a predominatly flat / rolling 10km of smooth surface paths away from traffic - but I was just focused on using the easy terrain to get where I was going. Faced with the alternative of a busy dual carriage way, I then took the offroads of varying quailty through the Llanelli Wetlands nature reserve. I was making good time here, and was starting to feel better about my progress. 

Shortly after leaving Llanelli and Gorseinon, I passed along the edge of Gowerton and turned westwards onto the Gower Peninsula. Here I made a stark realisation - I had been aided, quite a lot by a decent tailwind, up to this point - a wind I was now going to have to battle for  the next 20km to get to my destination. It was 5.30pm now, could I get there before 7? I saw a petrol station as I came out of Gowerton and thought about stopping for some fuel (petrol was not quite to my taste, but there was other carby treats within!). Against my better judgment, I pushed on - I had to get to the campsite, and logical thoughts of dinner this evening or breakfast in the morning didn't enter my mind. Despite the flat roads, progress was slow as my loaded bike fought against the wind, and the occasional aggressive driver didn't help either. Finally I managed to get away from the main road onto something called Marsh road, which was exactly what it said on the tine - a road so low, I wondered how this could stay dry in high tide.The sea, in fact, already seemd higher beyond the marshes.

Then I came into a small town called Llanrhidian and immediatley a rough climb, through and out if it. It was a sunny Saturday eve and people were in the sun with a pint to take in the sight of my slow escape from town. There were lighthearted comments and ironic cheers but unfortunatley my wit was not quicker than my speed, and i just had to take it, as I laboured onwards and upwards. I rejoined the main road again, but only for about a kilometre before taking another right which gradually dipped down into a big descent back down to sea level again. With no real flat bit at the bottoom this turned into a mean climb through a little village called Llanmadoc. I put the village behind but the climb just went on and on. I seemed to keep passing people just as I really struggled on these climbs, corssing a group of young holiday goers as they wandered down the hill. I probably turned purple as I tried to steady my breathing while passing them, a moment that felt far longer than it was. This was the reality of plotting a route to hug the coast, i thought, as I cursed this part of the route which seemed to take me down off the main road just to climb back up to it again, with no real scenery pay-off - something to consider for future days! Again I joined the main road but to add to the seemingly never arriving destination I passed a few campsites that I had tried to book. I found negative thoughts creeping in "If i had booked here, I'd be thre by now" but tried to push them away - there was a reason I was heading where I was heading afterall.

After a bit of a draggy long climb I started a nice sweeping descent, hopefully my final of the day, down to Llangennith and my campsite just beyond. As I flew through the town I saw a nice pub and wondered would I pop in their later for a pint. I continued down the hill, and was less than 1km from the end  when to my dismay had on more steep (18%) hill before hitting the campsite. What kind of cruelty was this? It wasn't particularly big, but it may as well have been Everest, delivering me to the entrance overlooking the whole campsite and the dunes beyond. Just before 7 PM, I was relieved to find the reception still open. The staff were relaxed and helpful, even letting me know that the campsite restaurant would take final orders at 8 PM. 

I decided to go about setting up my tent as soon as possible. My camping pitch was huge, clearly intended for a motorhome and a car parked beside. My bike and tent were completely lost in it. I went about getting my tent out, just as a neighbouring German family were setting out their dinner and looking on. They seemed increasingly intrigued as I inflated my tent using my bike pump—something they had clearly never seen before. I was quite pleased with myself, to capture the imagination of discerning German campers, but had no time for small talk. I needed FOOD.

Day 1: Done!

I decided not to have a shower and change just yet, I wanted to make I got my order in and see what was what. They said it would be an hour's wait for the food, but equally implied it could come out much quicker than that, so I was now tied to the restaurant for the foreseeable evening. Furthermore, I had to wait outside for a table as the light faded. I could've had a shower in this time, but didn't want to miss anything coming out or the opportunity to remedy any mistakes - something about the hecticness of the staff made me wonder if my order was taken at all. Eventually I did get back inside and get a table and get my food, and it was worth it - that and the 3 pints of coke I also had with it. I decided against having a beer - I knew from previous experience that drinking and camping don't mix to well. It was a bit weird sitting on my own as a solo traveller in a hectic campsite restaurant and bar surrounded by large clusters of friends, but equally, I was happy not to be social - I just wanted to unwind from the day

Worth the wait!

After eating, I finally took a shower, though I later realized I had used the beach showers instead of the more luxurious shower block around the corner. oops! I spent a bit of time sorting out vdieo editing and social media updates (a few people had asked for updates on Instagram, so I obliged, setting a precedent for the 2 weeks to come), but ultimately was ready for sleep by 10pm. The breeze was still pretty strong and the sound of the waves crashing on the nearby beach where surprisingly loud, still very audible through my earplugs. I hoped for a good night's sleep. I was relieved to have completed Day One. But tomorrow, I would have to do it all over again! 

Wales Day 1: Route

Is that a name or a motto? - Cotswold Classic Middle Distance Triathlon 2024

 PROLOGUE

 After the disappointment of having to drop out of a whole host of events (the Super Series) in 2023 due to adversity I was keen to focus on just one event in 2024 and do any bonus events I pleased around it – an aspiration model that had worked well for me in previous years. I had no real idea on what this event what this would be. Luckily Martyn Lewis made the decision for me, with a suggested club outing to the Cotswolds Classic V2, I reputedly flat and fast middle (or half ironman, if you want to get me sued) distance traithlon around the scenic Cotswolds lakes. Furthermore 2024 would mark 10 years since I did my first half ironman in Fishguard – probably to this day still the best paced event I have ever done, but back in the day when I utterly winged it on training.

 For the past 3 years I have been training with 8020 training plans, which have worked pretty well for me. I had never really trained before this with a program where all 3 disciplines are in the same picture and I really saw the difference in performance. Even though I’d class 2023 as a disappointing year, I’d say a lot this was due to a higher bar I had set myself after 2021 and 2022. In short it’s nice to rock up to an event, and feel ready to race rather than participate. In training for Olympic distance the last few years, I always picked their Level 3 programs as I have the time to do so (Level 1 = turn up and participate well; Level 3 = turn up and hope to place high), so it felt natural to do a Level 3 Middle Distance programme.

 This is something I almost immediately regretted. My 15 hours a week in previous years generally comprised 9-11 hours of the training program plus a bonus long ride at weekends; now my 15 hours was solid structured training with little wiggle room. I did get into the swing of it after the intial shock of the first 3 weeks, but having to come back to it twice in later stages after taking a week or so off with with injury and illness was a real challenge, and swimming training never really got going after a shoulder niggle resurfaced in April, which is still with me now. Add to this a bout of covid 3 weeks before the race, which I felt took away a gear or two on the run and bike and I was in more of an expectation management mode than my usual Scrappy Doo mode in the lead up.

 The day after the Broadhaven Triathlon [*cough* relay winner 4th year on the bounce *cough*], where I wisely chose to to only swim to save the legs (no hole in the plan, surely?), I managed to get on my TT bike for the first time this year, only a week before raceday. Having had to do some last minute conditioning to get ready for just being on the handle bars for Ride London 2 months ago, I forgot I might have needed to do the same for the aero position too! Oops. One week left, plenty of time! The bike felt a bit foreign, but shoulder held up okay. The 30km out and back bimble to Tenby was surely representative of a raceday 90km after a swim, wasn’t it? With this and not swimming the final two weeks, and missing my 66% of my runs the last month, I was feeling ready!

 

Leading out the swim at Broadhaven Relay, resting the legs for Cotswolds... or something

I travelled up on the Friday with my mini supporters club of Carwyn and Flo (whose motorhome I was also utilising for the weekend) and settled into the campsite where most of the club members (Simon Phillips, Martyn Lewis, Jonathan Harwood and Carwyn Jones) & families were also staying (Kelly & Nathan Miles had secured air bnb’s elsewhere) and managed to get a full bike reccy of 1 lap the bike route in first thing on Saturday morning. I was quite pleased to find that, aside for a few potholey stretches with rolling but really very flat roads. If you think of the hill to Tiers Cross roundabout from Johnston on the 20km TT – that would be the most extreme climb by a stretch if it was on this course! Despite only plodding it out in high Z1/Z2 it was still just shy of a 30kmh avg. However, I could still acknowledge that holding myself in the unconditioned aero position was actually quite hard work, and wondered if I could manage to go much quicker (if at all) on the day over 2 laps after a swim. I went down at 1pm with Kelly to see the most clear thorough and considerate athlete briefing I have ever seen, got all registered and organised myself back at the campervan to be able to leave at 5am (!!!) the next morning with mininum thought or fuss.

 RACEDAY 

Somehow I managed to wake up before my alarm and I was leaving the campsite a 4.55am on what was looking to be a clear summers morning and was down and sorted in transition by about 5.15am. I was defintiely there a bit early (race start 630am) but it gave time to sort everything in at a nice pace and factor in the customary extra two loo stops. Coming into the transition area it was nice to see that

a) the racking was numbered

b) the racking also had athlete name tags

c) all the club were racked together – this would be good for tracking club relative progress during the race.

 

Slowly but surely, the fellowship of the club arrived all bright eyed and bushy tailed. Or at least that’s what I assumed – I wasn’t wearing contacts today, so had to commit to blind mode between transition set up and my prescription goggled swim. I slowly but surely took myself on my delicate feet down the gravel path to the swim start where I met Nathan Miles. I don’t think it was because I had my wetsuit on, but I was in buoyant mood. We managed to get a dip in the lake, chat about the race ahead and generally question our life choices, and before we knew it we where in chute walking towards the rolling startline. Right, I guess we have a half ironman to be getting on with!

 

Normally, off the back of a good training season the race strategy is simple – go for it and trust the training. However, with my stuttering final few weeks training I had to think very carefully about how I was going to take on this race a distance I hadn’t attmepted in 10 years. Luckily I thought about this very thoroughly in the 45 seconds before I ran into the water.

 1. The swim – I’m a swimmer! I’ll be grand, just go for a swim, don’t race it – need a working shoulder to hold myself on bike – just plod it out

2. The bike – throw all caution to the wind – fuck it – I think I’m still fit at one of these things!

3. The run – I dunno, let’s see what happens

This was a race strategy very similar to what I did at the Isoman, with appalling consequences, what could possibly go wrong?

 So that’s what I did – I pottered into the water, took 2 maybe 3 race pace strokes, then settled into a nice relaxed stroke. Passed 10 people to first buoy. Lovely stuff. Passed 20 to next buoy this is great altogether. Admired some of the underwater vegetation – lovely visibility. Some guy passed me – paced with him for a bit. I did find in my zoned out plodding state that my crappy left and strong right shoulders had me veering off left so I had to remind myself to keep an eye on surrounding swimmers. Rounded the buoy for the dog leg that was about halfway around the course and found myself plodding with two other people now – they both seemed to completely misunderstand the next turning, they went straight while I took the hairpin right. Suddenly I found myself on my own – had I passed the 630 wave and was looking at the mass start wave ahead? Hardly. Nope I had just veered left again and the people I had undercut at the hairpin had now undercut me. Oops. I could feel my wetsuit wear into the back of my neck as I rounded the penultimate buoy – I needed to wrap this up before I lost my head. I might be making this sound like a lot of jeopardy and excitement, but really this was a grand swim altogether – the last of pressure I had put on myself had made for probably one of my most relaxing triathlon starts ever!

 Swim [click for strava activity]

Getting helped out by the marshals. We wouldn't want to work too hard now, would we?

 I took the advice given at the race briefing and let the volunteers help me out of the water at the T1. The run from swim exit to transition probably wore me out more than my actual swim! This spoke volumes of both the measure of my swim effort and my level of run fitness, pleasing and ominous in that order! No other club members in yet – nice. I faffed a bit getting myself sorted out at transition, getting my bike shoes on before leaving transition on the bike rather than leaving shoes clipped on – a decision made based on the state of my shoulders and back. Both Carwyn & Simon came into transition while I was there. There was some exchanges between us, but can’t really remember what. Shit, I was going to have these guys chasing me down on the bike. I said “see you guys soon” as I left transition on the bike, feeling they would inevitably be passing me on the bike or run.

Simon Phillips, Swim Exit

Carwyn Jones, trying the unorthodox Hopping Method to T1

Nathan Miles, Swim Exit

Once I got going on the bike I quickly forgot about what was behind me and was only looking forward, quite literally, spotting the next cyclist down the road, chasing them down and passing. Rinse, repeat. My shoulder was an immediate concern, with considerable discomfort in my weak shoulder but this slowly seemed to disappear in the opening km’s. Either it was swim fatigue that had worn off, or my shoulder had gone numb. I’d worry about that later I thought! The trend seemed to be passing far more than getting passed and I was quite enjoying myself. Perhaps I was enjoying myself a bit too much, forgetting the potholey stretches I had reccied the day before and getting more than a few non consensual interactions of saddle + crotch, each one punctuated with an audible swear from me!

 After about 12km of some twists and turns, the course took a left turn onto a main road which i had identified as the fastest part of the course - not necessarily the flattest, but smoothest surface and most continuous stretch without and junctions (about 20km) to contend with - so one could just focus on getting on with it. Something I noticed here was I must have naturally been in a more aero position today than yesterday - my perfectly positioned straw yesterday was today firmly pressed against my chin! During this stretch things started to get very misty, even foggy. It made me happy I had reccied the lap the day before, knowing well in reduced visibilty that there weren't any surprise sharp corners around the end of some of these long sweeping bends. Another benefit was it was rather cooling! This was something I was starting to become aware of as I had been cycling quite enthusiastically and there was a bit of burn in the legs. Yeesh, less than halfway around the first lap, and I was starting to feel the effort, maybe it was time to cool the jets! It was at about this stage in my thought process where some familiar club colours whizzed by on the bike - Nathan Miles, he was flying!

Jets re-engaged.

 It wasn't that  I was trying to catch and re-pass Nathan - in fact he very quickly  pulled away and disappeared into the mist ahead - but it was a bit of a kick up the arse I needed. I was trying to make excuses to try less, and I quickly reminded myself that Simon and Carwyn were surely on the chase behind. Nathan was on the Aquabike and had no run to save himself for so I left him to it (and fairly sure I could not have cuaght him if I tried), but I could still try and smash a good bike leg out. I checked my bike computer to check my distance but sneaked a glance at my avg speed by accident - 33.7km/h. I set myselft a new goal: get above 34kmh, stay above 34kmh! This got me going again but I still questioned my strategy - ultimatley I took my recent Ride London experience as a confidence booster and again threw caution to the wind. By the time I reached the end of this long stretch (and definitely overcooking it on some long draggy climbs), the avg was now 34.2 kmh. Woot woot, now just to keep it for the next 2/3 of the bike course! 

 Shortly after taking the turn off I caught up to some muppet on a road bike flagrantly drafting the person in front of him. As I passed him, he shouted out to me and then I realised it was Jonathan Harwood! He then repassed me to say something to me but before we knew it we were upon a junction - I was a bit discombobulated and thought we were going left, Jon went hard on the brakes as he was waiting for the marshal to singal clear for a turn right. It all very nearly went tits up, and I ended up stopped in the middle of the road in the wrong gear. It took about a minute to catch Jon and friend again but I tried to press on - I wasn't much in the mood for conversation! This section of the course involved a few lefts and rights and it was a place where, the previous day, it seemed the lap should be ending but was in fact still 10km away. Again I was thankful for the reccy the day before as this bit flew by and before I knew it was back at the turnaround point for lap 1. Time check, 1 hour 17 minutes - yes! Now just do that again! As I came out of the turnaround area, I heard a familiar voice shout out to me. it was Simon Phillips - god he was perhaps only 1-2 minutes behind me, it was only a matter of time!

As I started the second lap one thing was clear - my body wasn't particularly happy with me! My bad shoulder was now kicking up a fuss and really didn't want to be on the aero bars anymore. My lower back was incredibly uncomfortable too and I just wanted to sit up. 43km to go, current avg 34.3kmh - keep going! Wait for the climbs to sit up, don't waste the fast roads, I said to myself on possibly one of the flattest bike courses I have ever done. This focus on staying on position and maintaining speed had me possibly hit every pothole I had nutted myself off on the previous lap - I may have been starting to get a bit grumpy now. This grumpiness was not helped by the realisation that someone (a first lapper I think) that I had earlier passed had been drafting me for the last 2km or so. He passed me and then showed his true speed. I had to freewheel for about a km to let him get 12m ahead of me as per drafting rules, during which time another person i had passed (clearly drafting the first person) passed me too. NO! No no no! Not happening! I put on the afterburners and left them behind me like farts in the wind - I wasn't having that! This then had me turn onto to the fast 20km section of the course fully charged up again on angry adrenaline.

So.... the thing about adrenaline is, it doesn't last that long. I was still chasing down people and passing more people than were passing me, but I was starting to feel hills that I hadn't felt on the first lap. Sometimes people I passed on the downhills and flats would slowly breeze past me on the 2-3% drags and it would take a few km to get out of awkward position swappery. My shoulder and back were getting louder and louder and my neck, not pleased with having to deal with this whole aero position nonsense, wanted to join the choir too. I didn't just sit up on the 'hills" - I got out of the saddle entirely and tried to wriggle out any body tension that I could. 20km left; avg 33.9kmh, come on. I got locked into another dance with someone happier on the climbs than me, eventually we got off the main road onto the smaller lanes and I managed to put him behind me on the predominantly flatter roads - this duel getting me back to 34.1kmh.

Back onto the main road and the final 8km to transition. Cars were starting to queue behind slower cyclists and the road was starting to get a bit cluttered now. I nervously looked at the avg speed hoping it would stay above this arbritary target I had set myself. I'm not ashamed to say I undertook a car that was being overly reluctant to overtake, and passed the cyclist ahead. Final km now, avg 34.0kmh - how on earth had I maintained this. Last turns into transition and bam off the bike. Avg 34.1kmh! Yes, I couldn't believe I had managed to keep that going, but at what cost?

Bike Leg [click link to see strava]

My 'run' into transition was ominous. Tight hamstrings and numb feet not a great combo. I pegged legged it in on my clippy cloppies and it did improve the mood to see the  supporters crew, of whom Katie, Vickie and Ellie on the way. I barely had the dexterity in my numb hands to take my bike shoes off. My feet and calves both cramped as I very arduously put my running shoes on. I slugged back a half bottle of dextrose and salt tablet mix before limping out onto the run, with the gait not unlike that of John McClane at the end of, well, any Die Hard movie. Right, just a half marathon now, is it? 

Simon Phillips (Top) & Nathan Miles coming into T2

The first 2 km was not great at all. Calves were twitching, left foot arch was completley solid with no spring, ...and the rest. I focussed on a high cadence short stride waddle. I immediatley regretted the half bottle in transition and needed to go to the loo. Despite it behind quite warm and close and sunny, I turned down water at the first drink station as I just needed to go - I couldn't see portaloos there which confused me. I wanted to make sure I used the race facilities and was hellbent on finding them. If women can't go off course for a quick comfort break, why should I? Plus it sets a bad exa.... Feck it - I'm running into the woods! Sorry I tried my best - when you gotta go, you gotta go!! I must admit, this put me right and I had no regrets. We were now running lakeside in tree covered trails, and while I was still wreecked, I had good sustainable rythym to my waddle now. People were passing me and I made my peace with that - I also held pace with other people and so tried to stay with them.

Starting to get into it on Lap 1

 I was surprised when we finished the lake that we stayed left and crossed over the bike turn around point and started running out away from the lake. Maybe I should have inspected the run course a bit closer! I thought this was a little out and back to make up the last bit of distance on the 7km of the lap. Not quite - more like the 2nd half of the lap! Oh my. We ran out alongside the main road for longer than I would have liked and it was here I really realised how warm and sunny a day it had become. A lady had caught up to me, her stride was heavy and I felt she was going to pass me at any second but she stayed pacing behind me which got my anxiety up. As we left the road onto trails again, I stopped to walk. I had really overheated on that stretch and just wanted that lady away from me - I needed to be zen. I did kind of kick myself that I didn't run another 200m as I rounded the corner to find the 2nd station of the lap. Thank god. I took a half banana and a cup of water and asked a volunteer to throw another over me. It was here I decided strategy for the rest of the run - walk through every feedstation, have something at every feedstation; run (waddle) everything else.

Here we were running around a second smaller lake, again on tree covered trails before running through the small town of Somerford Keynes, then back across the bike turnaround and onto the bigger lake towards transiton. Running through SK, some muppet head ran past in the middle of the road around a bend like it was a closed road event, and nearly got hit by an oncoming Porsche. Now that would have been a very Cotswoldian way to go!  The 3rd feedstation was just about 100m before the lap point / finish line. Energy drink here and a handful of something or other. A volunteer offered to shower me with a hose. Hard to refuse that! Lap 1 done. Hello supporters crew! Onto lap 2. I saw a finished Nathan Miles chatting to Jonathan Harwood in transition which had confused me - had he done the aquabike too?

Finishing Lap 1

Lap 2 actually felt pretty good. Legs had still loosened up, general cycle pain was gone and my waddle was gaining good rhythm. I was actually starting to pass people (full disclosure was still getting passed a lot too!) which kept the spirits up too. Feedstation 1, just a water and on again. Knowing where everything was now really helped motivate me to keep running between the feedstations. Having your name on your race number was a nice touch also - getting personalised cheers from the crowd really made a difference! The section by the road was no less stiflingly warm and tedious. Feedstation 2 coke and another half banana. Saw Kelly on the way back through the bike changeover - the first club member I had seen in a while. Another water and another hose down at feedstation 3. Saw Carwyn & Flo with their motivational sign as I finished Lap 2. Final Lap!!

Getting into the swing of things on Lap 2

Boogying out of the woods to start Lap 3

 

Kelly Peat (Top), Martyn Lewis (Middle) & Simon Phillips (Bottom) running passed transition to start their next lap

Almost as soon as I got away from the hubbub of transition my body seemed to decide it had had enough of this shit. Legs got heavy and time slowed a bit. Roots on the trail became big obstacles, ondulations became little hills. By the time I got to feedstation 1, I was getting funny feelings in my toes that I didn't want to think about. From feedstation 1 -2 all I wanted to do was walk, but I waddled on. I thought of Carwyn and Simon behind me on the course - surely it was just a matter of time before they passed me. They can't have been more than 4 minutes behind me after the run. I had made my peace with them passing me on lap 1 or 2, but passing me now would've been a cruel blow. Feedstation 2 and my final coke and handful of jelly beans stuffed into my face. I was really on my last legs now - I could feel the energy sap out of my calfs. The will to walk was overwhelming but I waddled on.

Someone passing me noted my kit and remarked "This must be a walk in the park for you, compared to Pembrokeshire!" I looked back at him and grimly said "At this rate, it literally will be!". Only 2 or 3 people later another person remarked on name on back of my trisuit. "B Keane, is that a name or a motto?!" "Both", I said, "I'm trying hard to live up to it!!". "You're really doing it!" he said, as he breezed away from me and left me for dust. Cheers, budday.

 Back to the main lake. Yes yes yes. I saw Carwyn and Flo about 500m out, cheering on. I got a final hosedown at feedstation 3. I tried a 'sprint' finish but nearly came a cropper on a pothole concealed by the red carpet and sheepishly stumbled across the finish line. Cotwolds Classic V2 done

 Run [click for strava link]

 

Simon Phillips came in about 10 minutes after, Carwyn another 10 minutes or so after. In the queue for the free post race massage there was time to look back on the splits. I couldn't believe I had ran only 1 minute over 2 hours on the half marathon. On a waddle, with walking feedstation stops! It had genuinely felt like a 2.5 hour effort, and my refusal to look at my watch during the run made it all the more of a surprise. Nathan had come first in Age Group in Aquabike, Jonathan unfortunately had to pull out with back issues on the run.

The total time for the day was 5 hours 16 minutes - a 30 minute half hour pb which I couldn't be anything other than delighted with. I would later find out that my swim split was in the top 10% despite going for a plod, as was my bike split which was hard fought! I hadn't come into this race in the state I had wanted to, but there was so many positives to take from the day. Like with Ride London, it was nice to look back and think there was time left out on the course to get when in better condition, but not so much that I was harbouring any disappointment. 

After the massage (the most painful bit was getting on and off the bench), we went over back to finish line and was there to cheer Kelly in what I think was her first Middle Distance triathlon.

 Even with all the post race faff and de-transitioning etc, we were still back at campsite by about 3pm. Most of the guys had to return to Pembrokeshire, but we still had a lovely few hours to chill out before pizza and pints in the pub and the small matter of watching Spain beat England in the Euros Footie Final.

 

All in all it was a great weekend. Big cheers to Martyn Lewis who organised the whole thing, and did all the thinking so we didn't have to, and thanks also to Carwyn and Flo who came up as supporting crew but also hosted me in their motorhome for the weekend, and well done Kelly on your first Half ironman!

I am hoping to organise another triathlon adventure to Ireland next year. Please stay tuned for future updates!

The absolute weapon of a medal

Robin Baker & Lee Thompson, who also joined us on the day

Mike Lawrence of Tenby, who was also part of our group, who completed the race in memory of his daughter Tash, who sadly lost her battle with cancer earlier this year. Well done, Mike!

 

 

 

 

 

The Challenging Sequel - Ride London 2024

So this guy apparently passed me in the last couple of miles... and I didn't even notice!

MOMENTUM, ADVERSITY, LETHARGY AND MOTIVATION..... and the rest

Even though this had been one of the highlights of my year, I don't think I had explicitly intended to sign up for this event again. I had went into that event with long covid illness frustrations and thought Ride London 2023 [click link for previous race report] was the start of a bright 2nd half of the year. This seemed to be the case initially, but then the year ended even worse than it had started.

 I did one or two triathlons before pulling out of all events with my fitness frustrations. I had signed up to the Super Series that year, specifically as I wanted to race them - simply training up to get back to a level of participation was just too depressing. this actually was an uplifting decision to make, took the pressure off training and managed to get back into the swing of things reclaiming the TT Sprint Series title. So, normality was returning then - onwards and upwards!

But then, in late September, we suffered the sudden loss of a treasured fellow club member and dear friend, Shane Storrow. Shane was an absolute gem of a human being who captured the heart of pretty much everyone he met, and I feel brought out the best in us as a club. This was a massive blow to the club and to me personally (too big & close a subject to go into here, to be frank, so I won't!). Then a week later I suffered a shoulder / back injury that put a stop to my training - my training & routine normally being the coping mechanism for dealing with the heavy shit in life. All in all, not a good time at all.

RIP Shane. Miss you, buddy

By the time I signed up for this in late November the context couldn't have been more different. The goal remained the same - I wanted to do my fastest ever 100miles on a bike. However in signing up in 2022 this goal was off the back of 3 years of consistent training and an all time peak fitness, in 2023 this goal was to be the motivator to drag me out of the slump of this shitty year. I was going to train my ass off and turn this shit around!

It started off well, with a cold in December that last till mid February, and shoulder injury lasting until mid March, but I started my training regardless in first week of January and didn't look back. It was interesting to see just how much I could do with this bastid cold clinging onto me, made me wonder if I had given it too much respect last year. In any case, my fitness curve on training peaks became a pet I was feeding with sessions daily and eventually it became quite easy to maintain the high volume.

What 90 days of consistent training looks like, dwarfing all of the previous year!

Meanwhile, in London, my friend Paul had started a journey of his own - to shift some weight in time for Ride London, and well, beyond! With our almost weekly check ins on zwift (which had become routine since lockdown 2020) we were doing a good job of motivating each other along the .... weigh? Then, with 6 weeks to go, I tripped over 2 new adversities: 

1. Such a long miserable winter combined with a shoulder I wanted to rest as much as possible meant I spent a higher percentage of my time than normal indoors on the turbo - I normally do turbo loads anyway, but try to get a big ride outside at the weekends. When I finally managed to get out in April (only my 2nd ride outside of the year!!), I made a stark realisation - I no longer had any core / postural strength to hold myself on the bike! My legs were super conditioned and full of energy throughout, but after about 50km my back and general upper body was in bits, more like what i'd expect to feel after 200km. Oooooooh shit.

2. Possibly related to the ride above, but did the first 800m Swim TT of the year 2 days later. I had to pull out after 150mm. realising my shoulder issue had re-surfaced.... but this time on my good shoulder!

Initially I was pretty mellow about this. I was on a rest week so didn't feel to bad to reign back training (read: stop completely). Then the next week came the was no motivation there at all. Then the next week came and before I knew it i had gone 3 weeks without training, all the while watching my well fed fitness curve plummetting downwards!

Anyways I got myself back together... ish, opting to ride outside as much as I could in the remaining  weeks lead up. This involved a few 100km / 5 hour rides which was important. For conditioning myself, I felt time in the saddle was more important than distance, so 5 hours for a 100km ride was good training for 5ish hours for a 160km ride. The legs were trained and ready it was just about getting my body to hold me on a bike for that time!... in theory, at least!

RACE WEEKEND

As per the previous year I travelled up to Paul's on the Friday, to facilitate a social chill out day before. As we had done the sight seeing with Paul the previous year, I stressed I didn't really want to cycle the day before, so instead we went for a walk... which turned out to be 14km! It was super chilled out though and gave opportunity to catch up with Andrew, a friend from Zwift that I had finally met last year.

Walkies Pic

The weather was glorious on the Saturday and betrayed the outlook for what was looking to be a grim Sunday. All week, the focus had been on the forecast, which was looking pretty miserable and wet. The forecast looked to shift to the later part of Sunday at one point, but then shifted back and dug its heels in - it was going to be weather for ducks, albeit with not much wind. 

Paul and Andrew had both signed up again this year along with a number of other members from the Southgate Cyling Club. Also Mark, a collegue from work had signed up too. There wasn't much chatter about what way we were taking on the day. Last year the plan was 'cycle with Paul' and that was that. Last year Andrew and a few others from the club had worked hard together to get around in an astonishing 4 and a half hours. I was hoping to do something similiar this year, but was hoping for a more consercative (but still lofty) 5 hours - a time that was getting adjusted back in my mind even more with the crumby weather forecast. Another slightly less arbitrary goal was maybe average over 30kmh for the ride, but honestly didn't know how it all was going to pan out. There was not much discussion on how we individually wanted to cycle with each other, but I think the general gist was  we would try to cycle together at the start, but acknowledge we may break up and see each other at the finish.

Because I wanted to cycle with the group club I made a request for a club jersey for the day. This actually involved me joining the SCC officially, which turned out to be more controversial than I expected, but it all came out in the wash anyway! From last years experience they were a very welcoming bunch of people and I was looking forward to riding with them again.

Sunday kit planning (before Paul gave me a rain jacket!

So all in all with had a very boring and responsible Saturday, watching the FA Cup final back at the house before setting up raceday nutrition & bikes, and having an early dinner and an early night, before another silly o clock start in the morning.

RACE DAY

I think it's safe to say that in my lifetime I've gone to bed drunk at 4.15am on a Saturday night more often than I've gotten up at 4.15am on a Sunday morning. Constant pitter patter of rain on the windows, contact lenses into sandy eyes. None of these were good things. By the time Paul and I got down to Enfield town centre to meet the other club members for the 25k pre-race commute, we were already drenched to the bone. Socks were already squelching.Shoe covers would have been a good idea! Today was going to be a long day. We all had rain gear on which made us not quite as homogenous as a club outfit, though one of the lads, neil, had an oversized blue rain poncho, which made him stand out!

25km from the start line & already sopping wet!

Spirits were high though, and it was good fun cycling in in an overgrowing bunch of cyclists, on near deserted streets. Getting seperated from the crowd at traffic lights and not being able to call or answer the phone due to the pure wetness of, well, everything added some stress but it was all good. Phone wetness issues prevented me giving proper updates to Mark. By the time we've gotten into the city centre and I had dried my phone, I had found out he had started (by accident!) about 45 minutes ahead of us. This didn't make sense to me until we re on the quays rolling up to the start line. Last year we'd waited for about 10 minutes to start in this area - this year the start line was just open and we just rolled through. It could see how Mark had started by accident now. Event was a go!

SCC crossing the startline, and not fully realising it!

We were already kind of spread out by the time we crossed the line, so any idea of forming into groups seemed to quickly go out the window. Aside from Paul beside me, I couldn't figure out if the other people I wanted to cycle with were ahead of or behind me. The fact that we were all in rain gear hiding jerseys didn't help the matter, obscuring the otherwise very vibrant and recognisable club colours. There was a bit of chatter with Paul but he ended up in conversation with another club member while pottering along. My legs were full of nervous energy, so I burst on ahead a bit just to get the legs going. I looked over my shoulder to check that Paul was still in my sight, hence me in his. He'd finish his chat and catch up to me, I thought. I also saw Andrew back track for his cousin who had just gotten a puncture - I figured I'd defintiely seem him soon enough as he is a very strong cyclist! After about 20km of going with the ebb and flow of the crowds of cyclists around me and wondering when Paul was going to finish his chat and join me, I came to a realistion - that person I had been sighting over my shoulder the last 45 minutes or so, that wasn't Paul! 

A series of pics of me not quite realising I'd completely abandoned Paul!

Oops!

I cycled in indecisive limbo for about 10 minutes, occasionally have an opportunistic burst which a chance crowd, occasionally freewheeling, wondering about waiting up. Had I gotten really far ahead, had he passed me in the crowds and not seen me and vice versa as our jackets were not as recognisable as our jerseys? Early morning brain was not firing on all cyclinders and couldn't form logical thought. My phone was still sopping wet in my jersey pocket. Ah feck it, i figured we knew we were going to break at some point, just not necessarily this early, so just had to get on with it! Our paths may recoincide along the way.

So I was on my own now and master of my own destiny. I was keen to try and make more use of passing trains than last year, but struggled to find ones to stick onto. Either my legs hadn't quite warmed up yet, or these early morning trains were simply too much for me! I still kept giving it a go though, throwing caution to the wind - not my usual protocol on long rides - and was enjoying putting on little bursts to bridge gaps in groups and occasionally latching onto groups / trains for the drafts, something that was getting more successful as the miles ticked down. This focus on effort definitely made me take in less of my surroundings, but I did note certain landmark parts from last year. The drag of Epping Forest seemed a lot quicker / easier than last year for example. Another clear memory from the blur of wheel hugging as nearly stacking it on a wet manhole cover as I came onto a roundabout at Chipping Ongar, the pinch of the figure of 8 course, on the chase behind a particularly strong cyclist - one of those moments where the adrenaline makes you disregard it as it happens, but then you think back on how sketchy it was afterwards! The back wheel just skipped away from me as it slipped on the edge, only for the 40km/h speed to right me in a fraction of a second. Phew! 

Wheel hugging, a theme for the day

My stomach was a lot more stable this year, and whereas the first half of my day last year was defined by numerous loo stops, this year my one and only stop loo was after after 50km and was back cycling within a minute (whereas same stop last year, we probably stopped for about 10-15 minutes, with leg loosening, bottle refilling, jelly refueling and the rest). I definitely had a lot more momentum now, and didn't really want the legs to cool down with uneccessary faff. 

Similarly I didn't feel too much like stopping to change my gear just yet. I saw numbers of cyclists stop at the side of the road to remove rain jackets as the sun peered through the clouds momentarily, only to see them stopped on the side of the road 5 minutes later to put the jackets back on! I felt comfortable, so I just cracked on. There did also seem to be a notable number of cyclists on the side of the road throughout fixing punctures. This did give me a few paranoid moments on more bumpy surfaces, but I seemed to get away with it. 

I did occasionally wonder about Andrew and Paul. Wondered if they were likely to catch me at any point soon, or if they had in some other train and I hadn't noticed. I kept marching on.

Over the course of these long rides, you tend to recognise people that you keep interchanging positions with over the course of the day. One of these people I decided to wheel hug for a bit, as he seemed to be quite strong / similar pace. Then coming through a dip, he seemed to come in too hot on a cyclist in front and touch tires, making him slow down dramatically and cause me to swerve out beside him. I used this opportunity to get ahead and give him a tow for a bit - however, on the next dip he did the same thing, this time touching my back tire! Quite an unsettling experience, and I went from thinking this was a good guy to pair up with to thinking he was an absolute liability! I quickly accelerated away and latched onto another passingtrain - another moment in the race that I did well not to think too much on afterwards.

The group I was in actually took me quite far, though I worked hard to stay in it, going for about 10km for a saw a similiar face (somehow, form behind) - my work colleague Mark - I had caught up to him, probably on about the 70km mark. It seemed like a good opportunity to drop off my current train and have a chat. I had always made it clear in the run up that I was going to do my thing and was going for a time, but I wasn't not going to stop for a bit of a chat - I was frankly surprised to have recognised him, passing so many cyclists during the day I certainly wasn't taking everything in! Soon enough though my legs were starting to cool down and I was getting antsy to get going again. I suggested he get on my wheel for a bit and see how we get on, but then promptly got swallowed up by a large group of cyclists passing through at pace. Within the chaos of this I could see that Mark was still in the mix behind me, but hardly conditions to chat anymore. I did in the midst of this come across Neil, another SCC club member previously recognisable by the large rain mack he had been wearing that morning. I tried chatting to him while also trying to pace in group while also trying to check Mark was still with us. Things where starting to get complicated!

Catching up to Neil (Hi-viz left) and Mark (blue jersey), Mark prefectly hiddne by Neil in 2nd photo

In the end different parts of the group surged at different times and we got split up. All in all we probably cycled together about 10km together, maybe chatted for 2! This brought us close to the half way point now, and the group I was in seemed to gradually disintegrate... or I dunno, maybe I just ran out of steam and fell off the back, can't really remember. We went over a flyover and were going back in a South West direction now, very much into a headwind. It probably wasn't even that strong, but a noticeable difference in drag have cycled with it the last couple of hours and generally being in a draft. There was only small little groups of people along this section of road, so trying to get out of the wind was difficult.

Drafting, a kerb's POV

Soon enough we passed through Felsted, the approximate halfway point and the location of the largest welfare stop where Paul and I managed to spend over an hour and a half last year, sitting on the grass in the sun. I took stock of myself - didn't need a loo stop, had only drank one bottle and had plenty of food in crossbar bag so I just continued on! I almost regretted this immediatley - with almost everyone around me going into the welfare stop - I found myself alone, a feeling compounded when I turned the corner in Felsted into a hefty headwind. Oh dear!

This feeling was thankfully shortlived. After about a km of grind a small train of maybe 6-8 cyclists passed me by. I took the opportunity and latched on. There didn't seem to be too many trains this part of the course, with lots of small pockets of struggling cyclists dealing with the wind. All aboard the train they got, and this group just grew and grew and grew. We swallowed up smaller groups of cyclists who latched on, and we in turn latched onto quicker groups that caught up to us. Over the course of 20km this group grew from a rag tag bunch of a half a dozen cyclists into a peloton of what felt like about 100 cyclists, a Super Blob (peloton possibly too elegant a word) taking up the two lanes of the road, consuming stray cyclists as it went - it was epic! I made the most of the draft, but equally tried to stay on the outside to avoid any dodgy moments, in a massive group of mixed abilities.

Super Blob - The Beginnings

I recognised the value of this Super Blob and worked hard to stay in it, knowing there would be a massive drop out of speed if I fell out of it. That is to say, there was a massive draft benefit in the group, but it was a lot of work to stay in it, sometimes just powering on the middle, sometimes helping bridge gaps at the front - it certainly wasn't easy! I was starting to feel it a bit. I had a pretty lean nutrition strategy to tavel as light as possible - double dextrose dose and double salt tablet dose in each bottle (with a spare double dose in the back pocket) and a bag of jellies. That was it. So far I had only consumed a bottle and a half (less inclined to drink with the shitty weather) and a handful of jellies. I had enjoyed throwing caution to the wind thus far but was starting to feel the burn.

I managed to stay with the group though, and while the Super Blob inevitably broke into smaller groups I got the benefit of the hardworking draft for pretty much 25 miles to the 3/4 mark in Chipping Ongar. Such was the momentum of the group I was tempted to keep moving, but ultimately I had to acknowledge I needed to top on on drink to get me through to the end. No loo break required (my high energy dosage low water strategy seemed to be working a charm in this respect), so I was very quick - one water bottle, and one energy drink made and I was done. I was making my way back to the bike when I heard a call from across the bike racks. It was 2 lads from Southgate Club. I didn't recognise them specifically - I'd met two many faces that morning to remember - but the jerseys where really clear, and equally they had recognized the club jersey through my semi transparent rain jacket. They introduced themselves (again) as Adrian and Oisín and said they'd wait for me if I wanted to cycle with them. I enthusiastically accepted their offer, but then immediately wondered what I was getting myself into. Up to now I had been a free agent, surging when I wanted from group to group, but crucially could also die off out of groups at will! Only after accepting their offer I was starting to question the condition of my legs too. And these guys were out and out cyclists - I didn't want to embarass myself!

We got going and immediatley I was chatting away with Oisín. He sounded english but the name was a give away and I found he was from Ireland.... Lietrim I think? The conversation inevitably got to hurling with me being a man of Kilkenny origins, but then inevitably after exhausting all my hurling knowledge in about 45 seconds had to admit I knew feck all about hurling as parents were of Dublin origins and as such I didn't have a hurley in my hand from day I could walk, as per standard Kilkenny protocol. Anway, I was chatting away to Oisín and we came out of a dip up a climb - while we were climbing, I started huffing and puffing and legs started burning deeply - I was utterly fuckered! Well it might have been also that Oisín was a particularly strong climber too, but my efforts in staying in the Super Blob and my lean nutrition strategy had definitely caught up with me. I tried staying with Oisín for 1 or two climbs after that but it really wasn't sustainable, then tried stayed with Adrian who was plodding at his own pace and catching up at the top, and to be honest that was work as well. 5km in for our 40km run in and this wasn't looking good! I did do better with them on the rolling sections, but these 5% plus climbs were killing me... and what was with all the hilliness all of a sudden?!

A rare pic of me not flagrantly drafting someone

I stopped to finally take my rain jacket off - probably an hour later than I should have but the sun was well and truly out. I politely told the guys no need to wait, as I felt I really was slowing them down, but I was impressed to see I had caught back up to them within a km or two - not impressed by my efforts to do so, but by their unselfishness to clearly hang back on the pace for me to catch them. This was in stark contract to my general approach to the day! There wasn't much chatter - I was just raggedly hanging onto the back at this point - but I appreciated the company all the same.

Dying a death, trying to keep up with Adrian and Oisín

We arrived back into the Great London Area and the point of convergence of the smaller 100km and 60km routes. So while there was no longer trains or pelotons at this stage we had reverted back to a chaotic mass of cyclists of mixed abilities descending on the capital - one definitely had to have their wits about them, and I definitely had to do a few sudden swerves to avoid sudden hazards ahead! This thankfully dissipated somewhat when we got onto the 4 lane Eastern Avenue. The extra space was welcome, but equally we were definitely exposed more to a head wind here. As we came up a steep kick up out of a long tunnel,  my no-longer-climby-inclined legs failed me and I fell enough off the back of the group for the headwind to prevent me catching back up to it, without a heightened effort I was no longer capable of doing. I watched on helplessly as the group with Oisín & Adrian slowly pulled away from me, bit no other obvious people to draft. Ah well, nearly at the end anyway.

The route momentarily pulled away off the massive carriageway into some side streets in the West Ham area. Last year this was a point where I despaired on when this event was going to flippin end but this year I was a bit more mentally prepared through familiarity. It wasn't even that a long a diversion in reality - it's amazing how your state of mind can play tricks on you! I was back on the carriageway in no time and through the final Isle of Dogs tunnel which was about 2km from the finish line. One perplexing sight coming through this tunnel was seeing a guy on a scooter - not an electric one, just a plain old scooter, scooting along - with a race number and everything! What distance was he doing?! Even the shortest distance of 60km seemed a bit far fetched!

Home straight

The last 1km seemed really quiet. Where had all the cyclists gone? And how long is does it take to a do a final km? It felt like I was in Matrix 'bullet time' now, but not in any kind of cinematic way. Finally I rounded the corner onto the iconic Tower Bridge finish. All of a sudden it felt like I was surrounded by 100s of cyclists again. By my count there is approximately 20 million spectators on the bridge and the atmosphere was mighty (or maybe I was just running low on salts and borderline delusional) - it was great that the sun had come out the last 25 miles and it was a proper lovely day. I really did try to freewheel a bit and take it all in this time around. Amanda from the club had shared her location as she happened to be in London with Dai that weekend - it was reallygreat to see a familiar face on the bridge before the finish line.

Ride London 2024 done! [click link to see Strava activitiy]

Some stats from the ride (not official)

Riding moving time: 5 hours 30 minutes  - 25 minutes quicker than last year.

Total Stoppages: 12 minutes - as opposed to 2 hours 17 minutes stoppages last year!!!

Total time: 5 hours 42 minutes - my fastest 100 miler, by about 45 minutes!

Average Speed: 30.2 kmh. Woot woot!

Andrew Jansson crossing the finish seconds after me

Me deciding to flex my hamstring seconds after Andrew flexed his bicep for the cameras. I regret nothing

Straight in behind me was Andrew, literally only 2 or 3 people behind! Turns out him and his cousin had had a nightmare with punctures, so after behind delayed by literally hours Andrew decided to smash the 100km route instead, and happened to align his finish exactly with mine. What a nice happy coincidence. I was also pleasantly surpised to see Adrian and Oisín only about 50m in the queue for the medals. For all the grim feeling of seeing them leave me for dust and disappear into the distance they had only finished about a minute or two ahead. After recieving our medals (which I was pleased to see where shiny and klinky and silver again - they obviously had recieved some 'feedback' on the previous years wooden medals!), we caught up to a bunch of the other club members who had finished in the past hour. This (as well as meeting Adrian and Oisín earlier) was what made it all worth it to be part of the club vibe on the day. Amanda and Dai also made their way around to find me to recount the day's summary with me and also kindly bought me a much needed can of coke . It was all a really lovely finish to the event.

Happy Brian

SCC at the finish!

APRÉS CYCLE

One of my cousins lives in London and I had arranged to meet her after the event somewhere in the city centre, so I broke away from the guys and made my way to Buckingham palace, using the 12km Freeride London circuit of closed roads they had for the day to encourage families out on bikes. It was really a great amenity on the day and so many young families were using it, I could barely move on it! It was a testament to how lovely the day had turned out that the grass was dry enough to lie on when I met my cousin in the park. We stayed their for a couple hours while a probably blathered incoherently  about the day while we waited for Paul to come in. It was very pleasant altogether.

Me and some clock

Meeting my cousin Tracy in the Park!

When Paul did finally arrive, it transpired he had had a bit of a day. he had cycled with a few guys from the club at least one of whom was on her first ever 100 miler. There had been a number of punctures and even helping out of some random strangers, but Paul was in good spirits - it sounded like it had otherwise been chilled out and social day with a few funny stories - probably a lot more write-aboutable than my day! I did miss the social aspect of being out with Paul for the day on the bike, and equally Paul wondered out loud about what might have been if we had ridden together at pace. I apologised for how we got spearated at the start but it was all good - the expectatation was that we'd do our thing, but equally it was disappointing not to have the banter at the start.

We were half waiting for Mark to finish too, but he promptly went back to his hotel after he finished. Turns out he saw a bunch of accidents (I saw none, but the aftermath of one or two) so he had backed right out of group cycling and just pottered it out at his pace.

Myself and Paul took in a bit of the atmosphere of the Pro Womens race which had now taken over the Freecycle circuit, before taking on the 25km cycle back to Enfield, where we caught some stragglers from SCC at the local cricket club and then another casual pub stop on the way home.

Post ride pints!

While it had started a bit grim, it had panned out to be a lovely day and a great weekend. I was pretty delighted with my efforts - I had gone fast enough to have scratched that itch on attacking the course, but with the conditions as well as the less than ideal preparation, there is enough there for me to think i could return and bring that time down even further.

Lastly a big shout out to Paul O Brien, who from January up to Ride London managed to lose 16kg! His 2023 vs 2024 finish line photos were frankly inspiring and encouraged me to get my act together on nutrition again in coming weeks up to Cotwsolds (6kg lost so far at time of writing). Fair play Paul, sure you're a grand fella altogether!