Starving The Cat

Back in 2010 L and I did the Cheshire Cat sportive which starts and finishes at Crewe Alexandra FC. Today, four years on, we return. I need it as training for my half-arsed Ironman and L, well she simply wants to spend more time as a cyclist. It’s going to be a long one, I’m doing 75 miles and L 40, so we leave the boys at home.

We’re both been allocated at 10am start time, which is in the last group, but we manage to get away by 9.45.

My route heads out towards Leek via the infamous climb of Mow Cop before the route turns left, skirts the Peak District and heads not quite to Macclesfield before looping back to Crewe via Holmes Chapel and Nantwich. L’s shorter route avoids the big climbs like Mow Cop by leaving us somewhere around Congleton before rejoining our route at Holmes Chapel.

There are some serious climbs in the first half of my route. Mow Cop is just one of them but probably the most fearsome and you get a medal if you make it up the 1 in 4 climb without putting a foot down. I didn’t quite manage it. It was looking good until I ran out of road as I zigzagged up and clipped the kerb, which toppled me over. I find out later that they hadn’t penalised me for this and I could have had a medal, if I’d joined the 100 person long queue at the finish...

A bigger disappointment though was when I rode into the first feed station at Tittesworth Reservoir after 31 hard miles to find that they had no food left. All they could offer was a strictly rationed two gels each, which I took although I’d already got a pocket full of them.

The second half of the ride was much flatter and great fun too. At the second feed at Holmes Chapel they did have some food left, if you count little angel cakes. These were disappearing fast as everyone grabbed half a dozen. There was a rumour going around that they’d had bananas once but they were long gone. Even that wouldn’t have been great, I’ve got used to doing sportives where you get the likes of sandwiches, cakes, flapjacks, sausage rolls, cold pizza slices, hot soup, hot tea etc

Pulling out of there I have 17 miles to go, or rather 20 because they seem to have mis-measured. At the finish, where L is waiting, there’s the aforementioned long queue for medals and not even a cup of hot tea as a reward. The goodie bag is half decent though. Yet, disgusted at being half starved to death, I opt to head elsewhere to spend money on food.

We then head home and spend the evening in with the dogs, ordering our second take away in three days. Tut tut.

(Sunday 23rd March)

A (Slight) Sting In The Tail

We head to Congleton via my parents house, to collect my Dad who does like a 7am start. We take him to all the glitzy places and today’s its Congleton’s turn.

Now I’ve had a bad knee all week, well longer actually, so I’m not at all sure how this is going to pan out. I intend to start slow and not build up to a faster pace.

As is now the norm, someone with an Olympic torch helps start the race. Then as we leave the start at the High School, we find the first few miles to be a bit hectic, very busy and we all end up crammed on a pavement next to a busy main road. It was a bit like the ark, two by two, as the field hadn't had chance to thin out by then. Although I suppose this did it. There was the grass verge but I didn’t want to get my trainers muddy and I think everyone else thought the same, so congested it stayed.

Then across a busy roundabout heading into a supermarket before we finally quit the built up area. Thereafter it’s mainly country lanes, villages and plenty of room to run or hobble. Where I’m sure the view would have been really pleasant, if it wasn’t for some high hedges and a covering of low lying mist that didn’t lift. Actually perfect conditions for running, just not for sightseeing and despite a few undulations it seemed a fairly fast course. Not that dissimilar to Ipswich the other week, in fact that was probably hillier.

The race is chip timed and well marshalled. The drinks were in cups but for once I didn’t mind easing down to walk to drink from them, to give the knee a rest. All the drinks stations also advertised sponges, but they proved elusive, I never saw one. There was an extra drinks stop, set up outside the Black Swan and I eased up, just in case... but it was only soft drinks.

The race is called the 'Sting In The Tail' which is because, on the map at least, there was a huge dip, or may crevasse is a better word, at 12 miles, that you would think you’d need full climbing gear to get out of. Ahh, the wonders of map scales. The dip was not that severe. I didn't have to crawl.

L is racing too, she’s chosen the Quarter Marathon option, which I think is a first. At only £6 it’s bargain. Although she doesn’t get the t-shirt, which was a bit dull anyway, to be honest. Instead she gets a teddy bear and a much better goodie bag than me. There’s not much in mine at all.

I queue up for a massage but it’s not looking like a proper leg breaking sports massage, just two women playing patter cake on peoples’ legs. Which is always welcome but not worth queuing half an hour for, so I go to join L and my father in the cafe.

We head back to my parent’s place and collect my Mum before heading to the Canal Warehouse in Shardlow, where it turns out they serve a poor Sunday lunch but some excellent Hobgoblin.

After a bit of late afternoon R&R we decide to check out a beer festival that is happening at one of our local pubs, the Admiral Rodney. It’s nothing to get too excited about but they do have Otter Ale and that takes us back to many happy days spent in Devon. The pub are offering a discount for us Camra members and a loyalty card scheme, which is rather poor as you’re only allowed one stamp per day, rather than one per pint as is the norm with these things and it’s only valid for the fortnight of the festival as well. So not much of an incentive to revisit.

Back home, the knee is throbbing again and I rip open a sachet of jointeeze or something, which was one of the things in my goodie bag. L and the dogs immediately start choking from the aroma of the stuff and Doggo even momentarily gets off the bed. It’s all in a good cause guys, my dodgy knee, as is the Savlon for other areas that have taken a bit of chaffing.

(Sunday 7th October)