Return to Richmond Park

25th May 2009

54.17 miles

3 hours 40 minutes

To and from Richmond Park and 6 laps of the park

Having only done one ride longer than 3 miles in the last five months, which was a very leisurely 16 miles, my bike fitness was very much in doubt this morning. Not any more. Having had Blondie and the other bike radar guys offer to escort me around Richmond Park to get some confidence back, I found myself on the Madone this morning for only the second time. I had tried to back out of this ride many times, with each of my feeble excuses being rejected. So I was commited to at least turning up at the cafe at Roehampton Gate to meet everyone. And probably one lap. That would total 18 miles door to door, and I figured I could manage that. 55 miles and over 4 hours later, I returned home.

Isle of Wight

3rd January 2009

65.31 miles

5 hours

Mostly road, some tracks

Around the whole of the Isle of Wight

It was such a fantastic day, which made the accident even more unfortunate, as the day will now be remembered for that. We had an easy ride to the ferry, a mile or so away. A non-eventful crossing, and then we were at East Cowes, ready to start. We were doing the Round the Island route, and it was extremely well signed - very much recommend it for anyone looking for a change of scenery. We went around clockwise, which meant getting the hillier bits done before lunch. I did feel I was struggling as I was behind the others on the ups...and the downs...and frequently on the flats. I had to keep reminding myself that they all had decades of cycling experience, and I had 4 months, but it did my ego and confidence no good. I had taken the old roadie rather than the Madone, which I was thankful for when the signed route took us for a very bumpy and gritty off road section. If I'd had the Madone, I would have been carrying it. Srs. Had lunch in a lovely pub that served very unlovely food, but we got a little carried away and stayed for a few hours. We decided that we would abandon any plans to get the 6pm ferry, and instead get the 7.30pm. At that time, our only concerns were which ferry to get and what time we would get home. The fact that getting the 7.30pm ferry would mean 3 hours of riding in the pitch black on country lanes somehow passed us by. I did some wheeling and dealing, and sold my speedplay pedals to Rob, deciding to put my spare SPDs onto the old roadie in a bid to increase my confidence. I still find the speedplays a little difficult to clip in and out, and with the stop start nature of the IOW ride, it was chipping away at my confidence. I then agreed to sell him my shoes, as the cleats were already attached to them, and I found them uncomfortable anyway. But I must confess, that offering to sell someone my shoes, whilst wearing them, made me feel very cheap. Lunch over, we moved on, and diverted away from the official route in favour of the coastal military road along the south west of the island. Here we were treated to a glorious sunset over the sea, that brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it. Such a fantastic view, in such great company, is a memory I will treasure. We had more climbs, but as with the climb to the pub, they were long and gradual, the sort of climb I really enjoy, as long I accept going at my own pace rather than trying to keep up with others. We then hit another off road section taking us to the north, and then we lost the daylight. And with the daylight went any trace of warmth that the weak sun may have been giving. We were frozen, in the dark, on country lanes, that were riddled with potholes. It wasn't an altogether pleasant experience. I was frequently very scared, as even with bike lights we still couldn't see the ground properly, and as a group we were moving at about half the spped of earlier. Which just made us colder. Hills were met with yelps of joy as they offered an opportunity to get the blood pumping, although as we couldn't see the hills ahead, we didn't know they were there until we were climbing them. My lowest point was next. We had stopped at a petrol station to get more batteries for lights, and the stop meant I started to get really cold.My hands were the worst, they were so painful and using gears was impossible. I didn't cry for fear of my tears freezing to my cheeks. All of us were suffering badly by this point, and it was a quiet procession through the lanes. Eventually we reached a village, and knowing that we had 30 minutes or so in hand on the next ferry, stopped at a pub for coffee and hot chocolate next to the fire. We were greeted with incredulous faces and a question of 'Why are you riding bikes in the cold and dark?'. We didn't have an answer. The drinks and the fire were a huge boost to our flagging spirits, but we knew we had to go back out there. Even the knowledge that we were just 20 minutes away didn't help, as that would be 20 minutes of cold. Temperatures had sunk far below freezing. On we went, and after a while we were treated to the sight of a streetlight. And then another. And another. And a whole row of streelights. You really need to have been terrified and frozen to the point of pain, in the dark, in a strange place, to really appreciate how much the sight of the streetlights meant. Although it did mean saying goodbye to the amazing display of stars. As it was such a clear night, and with no streetlight pollution, we had an brilliant view of the night sky on the lanes. Not something you see very often living in London. Arriving in Cowes, we headed over to the chain ferry to get to East Cowes, and watched the clock nervously as we could see our ferry to Southampton being boarded. Luckily the chain ferry took just a few minutes, and we made the main ferry with minutes to spare. And then we had just a few minutes ride back to Lindsey's house. What could possibly spoil such a fantastic day? The accident ********** We were so close to home. I was still on the smaller front ring, as on the Friday I'd forgotten to change going up a hill (was worried about the rush hour traffic) and nearly came a cropper, so decided to stay in the lower gears for the ride home. So I was slower and behind the others. Approaching a cross roads, the other three had already crossed, and I slowed to check for traffic. Didn't stop, as I could hear there was nothing and saw no headlights. I saw there was a man, woman and two dogs sat on the kerb on the road I was entering. As I entered the road, one of the dogs dashed out in front of me. It was too quick and too late for me to swerve. I hit the ground. I remember lying there aware of an immense amount of pain in my shoulder. I saw the dog on the opposite pavement, it was fine. The man was apologising and asking if I was ok. I said my shoulder hurt. I said my friends would help me. I shut my eyes. I heard Lindsey shouting 'Don't touch her', her voice getting louder as she ran to me. I remember someone telling me to unclip, Lindsey lifting my bike off me. The man still apologising. I opened my eyes and the dog was lying on the pavement, good as gold. The man saying he sent the dog across the road as he'd seen the other three bikes go past. I heard Lindsey shout at him that he need to have the dog on a lead. He apologised again. Someone suggested swapping details. The man freaked out. Stuttered that is was an accident. I heard his voice fade as he ran off. My friends asked the lady if she was with him. 'Not really' she replied, just as he shouted back for her to come with him. She left. Then it's blurry. I somehow got from the road to a wall. I thought I was concussed as I felt very faint, sick and dizzy. I knew my shoulder was very hurt. Thought it was dislocated. Mark said I'd be screaming if it was. That didn't reassure me. Lindsey came back with the car. I was installed in the front seat, and though she was the most careful driver ever, every bump of that few minutes sent a huge jolt of pain through my shoulder. It was decided to take me to A&E. M had to get back to London, but Lindsey said I should stay with her that night, and Rob would also come to hospital with us. The journey, though short, was painful. A&E in Southampton General was fantastic. I was in triage within a few minutes, then taken straight through to a bed. The staff were lovely. I didn't have to wait long to be seen, and though I kept telling the young nurse to just cut my top off, she took great care to carefully remove it, so I still have an intact Gore jersey. Went through to xray, where I saw for the first time the bruise that was starting to develop. (Impressive, though on camera it looks crap.) After the first xray she wanted to move me to take another. I asked if she knew what was wrong. 'Yes', she said gently, 'It's broken'. I cried. 'It'll be ok' she said. 'No it won't' I sobbed. 'I've got a double iron man in August.' She didn't know what to say.

Surrey Hills 2

25th December 2008

80.2 miles

5 hours 41 minutes

Road

Winding through Cobham to Box Hill, and back through Epsom

Just got back. Had random blog thoughts at various stages of the ride, but I must have left them by the side of a country lane somewhere, and they're no longer in my head. The combination of laziness and being used to the fixie, meant that I rarely changed gear. I consider this as a good thing (not sure why I do though), but my thighs are not convinced. Only time I changed down from the big front ring was on the two long climbs up Staple Lane and Box Hill. Yes, I did near my house at 78 miles, and rode up to Wimbledon Town, round the one way system and back again, just to push me over 80 miles. So, first outing for the 705. Hmmmm. Not convinced it's what I'd hoped for. To be honest, as someone who loves poring over maps, needs to have a visual of the surrounding area to make sense of a route, is stubborn to the point of pig headedness, and always thinks I'm right, I'm not sure quite why I thought an auto-routing gadget would be good for me. For the first 13 miles, it was beeping at me for going the wrong way. Whilst I was shouting at it for directing me the wrong way. I knew the way to Cobham, and had picked my route specifically. Clearly Garmin thought I'd messed up. After 13 miles of beeping, I decided to throw caution to the wind, and be submissive for a change. I followed the Garmin. I had a sense that all wasn't well, but as it was taking me on a twisty route through residential streets, I had doubts in my usually trusty sense of direction. I should have trusted myself. After 10 or so miles, I made the assumption that it was trying to send me home. My punishment for ignoring it earlier I presume. Bad Garmin. I had plotted various waypoints on my route, to try and ensure it auto-routed onto the roads I wanted (yeah, so not much of an auto-route as me saying 'I want to go this way'), and I don't know if when I started follwing the directions, it was trying to take me back to the first waypoint that it thought I'd missed, or the later ones by Epsom and Ewell because they were nearer. Who knows. Given the positive reports about the 705, I'm willing to accept this as user error, and I guess I just need to get used to using it. And maybe actually following the directions. So I then reached a roundabout, and made a snap decision to head back the other way. Followed my path for a while, but then couldn't remember the way, as I'd taken so many Garmin-directed turns. Followed my nose for a while, and let out a whoop of delight when I reached a croosroads at which I'd stopped on my previous ride. I was back on my intended route. Woohoo. Looked down at the Garmin to see what it thought of my clearly superior intelligence. It had switched itself off. Meh. Switched it on and back to the ride, now on vaguely familiar ground. Lost my way for a while, and then started to recognise the landscape. Unfortunately, having taken a different route to get to that crossroads, the order of landscapes was mixed up in my memory, and this was the landscape before the crossroads. Shortly afterwards, I was back at the previously welcomed crossroads. I had just done an 8 mile loop to get back there. Stupid Jen. From then on, it was pretty drama free. I managed to remember the route back to Ranmore Common (still love it), and even managed not to miss (well I did but I did a u turn) the turning to Westhumble, avoiding Dorking High Street this time. Although I don't expect it would have been full of busy shoppers today. Back on the climb up Box Hill, and again I found it reasonably comfortable. In fact I really enjoyed it. Especially because it doesn't feel like you're climbing that much, but when you look down over the zig zag road, and later down the drop from the top, you see how high you are. And feel a little bit proud. I reached the summit of Box Hill in about 56 miles. Last time I reached it in about 30. Only a 26 mile detour then, thanks to the Garmin and then me. I had taken no paper maps with me today, relying on the garmin and, if necessary, the brilliant googlemaps on the iphone. So I didn't know which route I was taking, but hang done 56 miles already, I knew I would do my longest ever ride, and was happy to take any route home. So I followed road signs for a while. And made it up a bit. Made a snap decision to go via Ashstead instead of Epsom, despite not being able to work out the Surrey map in my head. Went through Ashtead, onto Leatherhead, then on seeing some unwanted options on the route signs (M25 anyone?) went through Ashstead back to Epsom. Pfft. Decided then to give the Garmin another chance to navigate, and set it for home, which I expect will be the most used feature. All credit to it, it got me home without issue, much quicker than I'd expected. And when I was using it, I found it very good with directions. You don't even have to have the map screen on to use it, so I had all the stats showing, then 0.1 mile from a required turning, it beeped and showed text instructions on what to do. I guess that's just what car sat navs do, but I don't drive! And that was that really. Hands are affected again. Except I haven't blogged this before so most people won't know what I mean. When I do long rides, I lose some use of my fingers. (Making changing gears hard so I have to balance the bars with my arms and use two hands on the gear levers). Last time when I got home, I had to use two palms to turn the doorkey, and the lack of strength/control lasted until a couple of days into my holiday - leaving me unable to write properly or even do up zips etc. Today I was able to just about turn the key, so hopefully it won't be as bad. Is this a common occurence? I hope this issue does improve though, as otherwise I won't be able to do the long rides, and so won't be able to do DI. Didn't mean to add in negatives. So in summary... I rode 20 miles longer than ever before, only the second time I've gone over 45 miles, at pretty much my average speed for 20 mile Richmond Park rides, and felt physically ok at the end. It was 2 minutes and 20 miles longer than my other Surrey Hills ride, over the same climbs. I can't really be anything but pleased. Happy 25th December xx

Surrey Hills 1

6th December 2008

60.18 miles

5 hours 39 minutes

Road

Winding through Cobham to Box Hill, and back through Epsom

Today was supposed to be the Doyen of the Downs 30 miler. Except I got the day wrong and it's actually tomorrow, when I'm flying away. So I was going to run the route anyway. But I was kindly sent a 70 mile route starting from London and going around the Surrey Hills, and I was thinking of doing that on Christmas Day. However I wasn't sure I was up to the distance, and although there are plenty of stations near the route, they wouldn't be running on Christmas day. So I though I'd do a test ride, today instead of running. All started well - I cut across through to Kingston, but then was scuppered by the one way system, so got off and walked over the road to bike the other way and found where I wanted to be. Traffic was reasonably light, but then it wasn't even 9am on a Saturday morning. From there it was main road pretty much down to Cobham where (I think it was here - my mind has mashed the ride altogether) I started on the country roads. Was much nicer to be on quieter roads, although it was a bit nerve wracking when lorries flew past me and I wobbled in the wake of their vacuum. I'd printed the route from googlemaps, but even on multiple pages, the details was still a bit sparse, for example most roads weren't named on the map, and when you're trying to pick out which country lane, and commit it to memory so you don't have to stop and check the map at every junction, it's a little tricky. Managed to stick to it in the main, although a few times I missed turnings and had to find a way back to the route without wanting to simply turn straight around. Hills were mostly manageable - lots of short up and downs. There were three main climbs - one from the A246 crossing near East Clandon - I huffed and puffed my way, but I made it without stopping. The next climb was a completely different story - I turned right onto Crocknorth Road, and the hill rose very very steeply for a long long way. I managed about 20 yards before stopping. I then walked to the top, and was absoutely knackered - no way I could have managed riding. But the reward for that climb was riding along Ranmore Common, which was lovely. I knew that the 'big one' ie Box Hill was coming up shortly and was getting nervous - I didn't want to have to get off and walk again. I think I lost concentration as I missed my turning and ended up riding along Dorking High Street, instead of my pretty country lanes. Got back on track, and on seeing bike signs for Box Hill and a subway, got off and walked under, but I guess it would have been possible to just ride around the roundabout. It was busy, but I saw another cyclist on there - one for next time. And then I was at the bottom of Box Hill. And going up was fine. Yes, it was a sustained climb for a couple of miles, but the gradient at times was barely noticeable, and I felt comfortable the whole way. That said, I was glad to reach the top and see the beautiful views. From here on was basically the home stretch, albeit a 30 mile home stretch. I followed the given route until Epsom, then was thrown by the one way system, and not wanting to get off and walk in the right direction, decide to go left and blag it. Ahem. No. Ended up just doing a small tour of the town a couple of times before I found where I wanted. And then I hit West Ewell and it all went wrong. By now I'd exceeded my previous longest distance of 45 miles, and must admit that in the ensuing frustrations, it occurred to me more than once that I could just stop and get the train home. The route got very fiddly, taking side roads that were hidden amidst myriad side roads. So I figured I would just head in the vague direction and work from that. But then I saw a cycle route sign to Kingston, and decided to follow that. First off, it took me through a park, where I had to dismount. Then the directions stopped. Aaaargh. Followed my nose again, but ended up on a dual carriageway. Not good for the nerves. Then saw cycle route signs for Ewell and Epsom and decided to follow those. They took me back through the park the opposite way, back to where I'd started. Aaaargh. Then I did a lovely tour of some of Epsoms finest estates. Not the country kind. Eventually got back to Ewell (where I'd unintentionally turned off the route), but I was so tired and annoyed by this point that tears were almost shed, and I so nearly stopped at the station. But nearly stopped isn't stopped. I'd had another check of the rubbish Google maps prints, and assuming I could get the right road out of Ewell, created a new route home from main roads. Not ideal, but I was losing any patience I may have started with. But the good thing is that I have lost my fear of roundabouts. I am still nervous at them, but no longer terrified. I went over three major roundabouts within a mile or two of each other, (straight over at two and right at one) which included a heavy flow of traffic from the A3 (twice) and the A24. And I survived. More than that, it was fine. I saw when I could go, and drivers saw me, saw where I was heading, and didn't run me over. Result. And then I was back on familiar territory. Or so I thought. I still don't quite inderstand how I took a road vaguely parallel south of the main road, but ended up at a junction north of it? Anyway. Quick diversion to retrace this mornings steps to pick up my bike computer, which had fallen off. Now although I wasn't aware of the exact moment it fell off, I did notice it fairly quickly. But chose not to go back, thinking I'd pick it up later. On my return, I realised how stupid that idea was. Firstly, I couldn't remember where it might have fallen, secondly, anyone may have found it and moved it. Thirdly, looking for a tiny computer, not much bigger than a £2 coin, on a long stretch of road where it 'may' have fallen is not fun. Especially after 60 miles. So I now have lost my computer. Didn't realise I even used it much when I'm wearing the Garmin, but I really missed it today. Just things like checking the time, and seeing what speed you're doing on hills, and in fast traffic. I'll never know... So after giving up the search, it was an easy coast for the last mile. Apart from the drivers trying to kill me, but it was actually a relatively attempted-murder free ride. It was shockingly slow. I usually average 15mph on weekend rides, which in itself is slow. Today was 10.6mph ave. In my defence, that's from start to finish - I didn't stop the Garmin at all, and I had numerous (lengthy as had to get stuff out of bag with almost numb hands) stops to check the map prints, and for drinks etc. but even so, the moving pace would have been fairly sedate - I was pooling to a degree as I wanted to last the whole 60 miles, and I held the brakes on the downhills as the roads were wet and a little icy. Learnings? A lot. In terms of performance, it hasn't helped my confidence due to the slow pace. But I know that I can fairly easily cope with that distance. And as training for ultra marathons focuses on time on feet, I'm going to prioritise time on wheels. Even if that means pooled miles - the longer I can spend riding a bike the better. I am my own worst enemy. My stubborness, which gets me through ultras, can also work against me. In Epsom, but particularly around West Ewell/Ewell/Chessington/Hook/wherever I was, despite the fact that I was nearly in tears with the frustration of being lost, I was determined not to look at the map on my iphone, which tells you exactly where you are. Why I didn't use it, I dont know. I just wanted to get by without it. And I did, but the hard way. I liked the route, but more than half of it was on busy roads. I may look into getting the train just a few stops away from here, and use that as my start/finish point. Hills are my huge weakness. I cannot climb them well, sometimes not at all. To get better I need to do lots of hill training, and build up my (still only 3 month old) biking muscles. And lose weight preferably. I'l find it a lot easier getting up hills if I was lighter. There's a good reason why hill-climbing champions are tiny waifs on bikes. I did enjoy the ride. At times I really enjoyed it. At times I was frustrated, either by traffic or by myself. My confidence at junctions is improving, but I still had to walk over two junctions - one of which on the way out where I had to cross two lanes of fast moving traffic joining the A3. I didn't even try, and got off and waited for the green man to lead me to safety. OK, so no calculator will tell you that 60 miles bike is equivalent to 30 miles run, but I was out for almost as long as I would have been running for, and it was an exercise well worth doing.