Now, with Coast-to-Coast done and dusted, it’s back to the drawing board for the next crazy challenge, something to push our bodies ever further and to share more wonderful memories. Only two weeks on and a 3-day 680km ride across the Pyrennes has been thrown into the mix. “Coast-to-Coast II” – The Atlantic to The Mediterranean. Why not? I loved riding in the Alps back in June. I enjoyed the experience of UK C2C (albeit the weather put a damper on the event). So a combination of the two seems like the natural course of action. We’ll see. Someone else may have to take the reins now that Guy will be kept busy putting to use the funds raised on C2C to provide fun-filled sporting events for children in Cheshire and fulfil Concept X’s aims.
Being my first sportive, I planned everything to a tee the day before, and still I was terrified I’d end up in Stoke with only one glove, no cleats on my shoes and two flat tyres. Fortunately the entire event was hitch free, including traffic on route! Surprising for 6:30am on a Sunday… Daft sod! In the 15 minutes before registration opened, I took a wander, soaking in the calm before 1000 riders descended on Trentham Gardens. A crisp summer dawn is a beautiful moment, with the chill in the air serving to only sharpen the scene.
September marks three years since I got my bike and started riding proper; the lack of bike maintenance skills I’ve picked up over this period would be slightly embarrassing for anyone, but it’s made ten times worse by the fact I am currently reading Mechanical Engineering at Uni… I know. There really isn’t any excuse. My knowledge is limited to cleaning my chain and derailleurs (badly), so it didn’t really come as a surprise that my bike was a bit screwed up. Chain Reaction Cycles-mechanic-man confirmed the play in my wheels was definitely a bad thing, but ‘rideable’. Something to do with wear of the ‘cup and ball’ related to the bearings in the hub? I’ll get someone who knows what this means to have a look.
Arm-warmers? Check. EPO flapjacks? Check. Shout out for UOBCC on tannoy system? Check! And we’re off. 50 or so riders at a time were released taking over the empty streets of Stoke. Initially I was worried that if I was in a later group I might be stuck with slower riders, however it was quite the contrary. It turns out that most of the chaps (yes the first group consisted of 50 men, poor show from women on the 100 mile route, but we’ll get back to that later) were content on trundling along on a social Sunday ride. My idea of fun is fast!
My heart rate averaged 110bpm for the first 10km. The only notable incident during this period was when I was embarrassed on behalf of all cyclists due to half of the 'peloton' skipping around me near the front and jumping a red light. It’s those riders who fuel the war of bikes vs cars, and give cyclists a bad name. There was absolutely no need for such foolishness, proven by the 20 or so who stopped behind me subsequently rejoining the lead group within 60 seconds.
My beautifully handcrafted stem notes (actually located on the top tube due to space issues), let me know the first climb would begin at 11km. It turned out to be more of a rolling drag over the course of the next 3km, but it completely tore apart the group of 50. The guy next to me had his front wheel clipped by a rider who just stopped pedalling as he crunched his way into a different gear; this was the final straw for us both, so we said goodbye to being stuck in the midst of riders of varying group riding ability and applied a bit of pressure to move off the front. In the process we dragged 6 other riders up the road, to form my favourite sized group, eight.
Over the next 45km, the road was generally quite flat. Four of us shared the turns on the front, however despite the extra speed, by the time we arrived at the first feed stop I’d still barely had to sip my drink and my food remained untouched; I really didn’t want to stop, but since I also didn’t want to be left alone for the next 100km, I hung around for a bit until some people left again. I’m glad I did because somehow the 4 hangers on were swapped for 6 new, much stronger, riders who started in the second wave 5 minutes back.
One of the riders who joined us was a girl sporting shades reminiscent of Ryder Hesjedal’s POC Sports glasses. Emma later introduced herself as only 16! So she was already putting on a good show to be in the first group on the road, and over the course of the next 60-70km she really showed her cycling prowess as one of the best the climbers riding the sportive.
Over the 3 “Short Sharp Climbs” and “Up More” I challenged Emma to pull away from the group and jump in my wheel for protection from the headwind. Okay, perhaps I was showing off a bit, but that wind truly forced me to embrace rule 5 and “man-the-fuck-up!” indeed. I simply couldn't resist testing whether someone only a year older than my little sister could keep up with me. I hoped that perhaps my full on summer of cycling might have paid off. The move was successful in ejecting every other rider in the group. Only one rider we passed managed to latch on and keep up. When we reached the second feed stop (104km) at the bottom of Gun Hill, having reached 80kph on the descent, I knew I’d overdone it! The 20mph headwinds had chipped away and I was near enough broken. Gun Hill requires a decent effort, but it’s no brute. I scaled it in just over 10 minutes, over 2 minutes slower than I managed 4 days previously on a 90km ride. That alone showed to me how much suffering my body had taken from the wind on the front for 20km. Emma danced up with ease. She was simply the best female cyclist I've ever met who isn't a Pro. Kudos.
Downhill and flat don’t faze me; I can usually keep my body ticking over forever, but as my body reached its limit the slightest incline caused me to start pedalling squares and I drifted back from the others immediately. Around the top of Biddulph Moor Emma took a wrong turn ahead of me and that was the last I saw of her or Rob, her dad (whom I directed after her).
The final 35-40km hurt a lot. I shamefully drafted 5 riders for most of this before my body eventually gave up the ghost for the final time on an ungraded incline at 9km to go (too small to make my stem notes). Somehow I dragged my body over the line, clocking the 30th fastest time of the day from 313 finishers on the 100 mile route. No idea how I managed that, but overall I was pleased with my performance on my first sportive. I know it wasn't a race, however I always had the intention of riding to post a speedy time. Mission accomplished.
Riding a sportive has ticked yet another box on my cycling things to do list. I really should have entered one earlier, but it took a while to convince myself it was worthwhile forking out £30 for a ride which I could have done for free with some mates. Admittedly this was one step above that, but you won't find me entering anymore anytime soon. That is, until I find a route that I will definitely require the support provided by the food stops or is so iconic that it's name/route alone justifies the price tag i.e. The Fred Whitton Challenge or The Marmotte.