Great Nottinghamshire Bike Ride

Today it’s the Great Nottinghamshire Bike Ride and I pedal off at just after 6:30am to head for the start of my 100 miler. L will follow on the 50 a little later.

I queue up at the start on the Victoria Embankment and I’m away at 7:35 in glorious sunshine. So different to the wet conditions of last year. It’s a popular ride and it’s no problem finding a large group to tag along with. This enables me to bomb along and bypass the first three feed stations, which are mainly for the shorter routes anyway. I finally stop at Car Colston after 41 miles purely because I have run out of fluid although most of the group I’m with carry on. They’re hardy souls or perhaps it’s because they’re carrying two drinks bottles each to my one. They probably won’t stop until the first of the free feed stations at Norwell after 62 miles. All the feeds on the shorter rides charge but as I found out Hi-Five energy drink and gels are free even here. It’s took me only 2:06 to get here, so I’m flying.

The organisers should be commended for taking notice of people's opinions last year. Well I assume it was everyone’s opinions and not just mine. As well as the free Hi-Five and the two free feeds on the 100, as we head out on the extra loop of the 100 we find mile markers out on the full course as well as on the 50. They are nowhere near accurate, some are over two miles out, but at least they’re there.

With my group having headed off to Norwell without me, I get down on the aerobars and time trial my way there. When I arrive having taken 3:18 to do 62 miles, well up even on my Outlaw Half pace, it is to find the most awesome cake selection. I text L to tell her but she just reckons I’m trying to tempt her over to the deep dark side of 100 mile cycling. Well I reckon this lot is well worth the 15 or so mile detour off her route, particularly with the cups of tea thrown in.

I make the last stop at Wellow at 75 miles in 4:03, traditionally the best but now, after Cake City Norwell, it’s a bit of an anticlimax. I still grab a sandwich, another tea and a slice of cake.

I set off on the last bit. It’s all downhill from her apparently but they always say that and they’re always lying. Problem is I’m now so full of cake I can hardly pedal.

L texts to say she’s finished the 50 and has set a PB by 51 minutes and says ‘Bring it on’. Blimey, she cheerful.

As I get to the end, I find that somehow the organisers have also solved the problem that is Adbolton Lane. They’ve filled the potholes in, not with tarmac but with grit yet it’s still a vast improvement.

I complete the 103 miles (?) in 5:41, that’s my first time under 6 hours having pretty much raced the whole distance. Very pleased with that.

The 100 mile ride has again proved to be pretty fantastic. The only improvements you could possibly now make are to introduce chip timing and bike numbers rather than body numbers. Only about half the 100 field wore their numbers on the front, as this is so impractical and it must drive the photographers’ nuts.

Nottingham already has the best triathlons in the country (Outlaw/Outlaw Half), now I think we have the best Sportive. I wonder if the organisers could sort the Half Marathon out for us to complete the set.

Back in the event village Castle Rock have a bar in what looks like an old burger van. With the dogs (hopefully) being entertained at home by Daughter we have a couple of Saddle Sores. Only 3.4% but not bad.

Later, after dispatching Daughter to Sheffield by train we head for a few pints at the Horse and Jockey in Stapleford before visiting the Cinnamon Indian. The Cinnamon is ok but nothing special.

(Sunday 22^nd June)

Big Swim, Nottingham

Today I have the dubious honour of swimming in the rowing strip at the National Water Sports Centre, Holme Pierrepont.

There are three distances on offer: - 5k, 3k and 1.5k. No prizes for guessing which one I’ve gone for. L has opted for 3k and this starts at the very human time of 2.30pm. We head down a little early to check of the ‘Expo’, which is mainly for the Outlaw Ironman Triathlon on Sunday. The place is literally buzzing, mainly with folk getting ready for the Outlaw, racking bikes etc, but there are quite a few of us there purely to don some rubber.

We check in and are asked to show some photographic identification, as if anybody would pretend to be me and steal my place. We are then issued with a wristband (no idea what the purpose of this is), a timing chip and a coloured swim cap. Blue for the boys, red for the girls.

Then before long L is in the water and away. We have been briefed that the swim route is very simple. Straight up, round two orange buoys and then back, in a clockwise direction. Simple, as long as you can swim.

 L has to do this circuit twice, with a little run along the bank in between. So almost an aquathon. Having seen her complete her first circuit, I start to get ready for my date with the water. Then they announce that my start has been delayed from 4pm to 4.30pm to give the canoeists a break from the sun. Which is fine, if only they’d told me before I’d struggled into my wetsuit. It’s very warm today and once the wetsuit is on, you start to melt from the inside out. I suppose what I actually need now is a cooling dip in the lake but as this is no longer available, I choose to take the suit off again. At least now I will get to see L finish.

Then it’s my turn. Everything starts off much better than at Windermere. Firstly they give us time to acclimatise in the water and I make sure I’m one of the first in, to maximise this. We also actually start from within the water, which also makes it easier.

I almost enjoy the start and the early use of elbows as I jostle for position in the pack. I think eventually I get spat out the back of it, which I’m not too upset about. Then I realise I’m about to head butt the bank because I’m way off course, which is probably why no one considers me worth an elbow any more.

Clearly my ‘sighting’ (e.g. looking where I’m going) needs a bit of work but stroke wise I feel I’m close to getting the hang of it and I manage to do front crawl throughout. Wetsuit #3 also doesn’t seem to be choking the life out of me, which helps. Oddly though, I’m breathing almost totally over my left shoulder, which is something I cannot do in the pool where I almost exclusively use the right. I have no sane explanation for this.

The breathing also involves spitting loads of weeds out, which is an unexpected bonus but thankfully I don’t come across any supermarket trolleys. Thankfully because I know they have it in for me.

The main problem now is that someone appears to have moved the orange buoys because it’s a bloody long way. By the time I get there, I have cramp in both calves, which is a bit inconvenient. It comes and goes but doesn’t pass. At least, as I discover, in a wetsuit you don't need to kick your legs for buoyancy and can simply drag them uselessly behind you.

After a few more attempts at head butting the bank, which is accompanied by the unjust feeling that by doing all this zigzagging I must have swam twice as far as everyone else, I see the finish line.

As I reach the finish, I am more than happy to crawl up the slip way to the finish gantry but the marshals insist on helping me to my feet. Then they repeat this kind gesture after I have toppled over backwards as my legs temporarily decline the offer of terra firma.

35 minutes it took me, which is 10 minutes better than Windermere for 100m less. Sort of good I suppose.

In the evening we head off to the Gooseberry Bush in Nottingham on a bit of a retro evening which has been approximately 10 years in the planning. This is where we always used to start our nights out when I was a student... erm, 25 years ago. This night out has been requested by my friend in Newark, so that he can show his wife some of the student dives we used to hang out in. Sadly, or perhaps gladly, most of these have since closed down and the Bush itself is now a Wetherspoons. What’s more he rings to say they can no longer make it, so that was 10 years of planning down the drain. Although the three of us and partners, who are there, have a great time.

 (Saturday 6^th July)

Kiss The Hallowed Ground

So today, the Great Nottinghamshire bike ride, all 100 miles of it. I head off by bike to the Embankment for the start. I had originally wanted to take the car so that I could do a triathlon testing run straight afterwards but the parking arrangements and quite possibly the weather seem to make this too difficult. I shall instead attempt this at another bike event I have booked at Grimsthorpe Castle next weekend.

I aim to be there for a 7am start but in the end mainly due to having to queue up its 7.15am by the time I roll out. The right clothing for the day has been difficult to judge, so I decide to go expecting rain, as that's what it's doing. Although wearing shorts I go in overshoes and a waterproof jacket. The advice in the race pack was to ‘wear high factor sun protection’ but that particular bit of advice is looking a bit unnecessary.

It isn’t until I roll forward up to the start line that I realise that one particularly important item is missing. I have come out without my helmet. Oops. Never done that before.

The waterproof jacket soon proves too warm and I take it off, preferring to get wet from the persistent drizzle rather than from my own perspiration.

L starts the 50 mile at 8.45 meaning I’m going to be very hard pushed to catch her, unless she has a puncture... but I daren’t even entertain that thought. I’d never hear the last of it. Talking of which, there are a worryingly huge and I mean huge number of people repairing punctures at the side of the road. Hope L hasn’t noticed...

I stop for the first time at Car Colston with 39 miles done. It’s good to see this year that there have sports drinks laid on for the first time, which is very welcome. Around the course there has also been mile markers which is a nice touch. Although Mile 2 appeared after 18 minutes cycling, which was clearly incorrect as I could have ran there faster than that. My computer had 3.5 miles on the clock at that point and in fact the markers stay ‘reliably’ 1.5 miles out throughout.

I notice that there aren’t that many like me doing the event ‘eau natural’. There are a few hardcore old guys in little white caps circa 1970’s Milk Race but not many others without a helmet.

I stop for the second time after 61 miles at Caunton with the drizzle by now getting very annoying but not as annoying as the wind.

After 73 miles done it's the feed at Wellow, where everything is free to the 100 milers. Which begs the question why can’t everything at Caunton also be free as it too is only on the 100 mile route?

Also at Wellow, I get chatting to a guy who is using this event as a training ride for the Outlaw Ironman in two weeks. I’m impressed and we bond. I tell him I watched the Half Outlaw a few weeks ago and intend to be in it next year. He tries to look impressed but isn’t as he swigs from his Half Outlaw 2013 water bottle. Ah, I see you were in it. I kiss the hallowed ground under him one more time and head for my bike, telling him I’ll catch him later. Although obviously it’s he who catches me, waves briefly and then drops me.

I now have a mere 27 miles to do; L is apparently inside the last 10. So there really is no chance of overhauling her now. Particularly as the last 20 or so miles seems so windy and hilly or perhaps my legs are just shot it.

I have to say that this has been without doubt the best route they’ve put together yet but even then they still have to ruin it by taking us through Holme Pierrepont across the pot holes and the mud. The best bike is now a right muddy mess and will need a good clean later. We also get held up here by a wedding at Blotts Country Club, where everyone has parked down both sides of the road leaving only room for one car to drive down what’s left, with cars wanting to travel in both directions this creates a standoff and gridlock with nowhere for us cyclists to go.

Eventually I make the finish line in 6 hours 36, which isn’t too bad. One more request please organisers, official timing for next year please.

I am greeted by L, who not surprisingly immediately gives me grief about the lack of a helmet.

We cycle back home to the dogs using cycle paths this time (because I have delicate female company) rather than blasting down the ring road (my preferred route). After a bit of R&R we head to Stapleford for the evening. We eat in the Wetherspoons, where we have the usual problem of drinking more than we intended because they throw in a free one with the meal. Which is an odd tactic as we would have eaten anyway and we may even have bought more drinks... but that’s Wetherspoons for you, you take it as it is and not that many places serve food on a Sunday evening.

Anyhow that gives us the opportunity to move on to the Horse and Jockey and to see what decent beers they have on there.

(Sunday 23^rd June)

Operation 70.3

We had a few drinks last night but not too many, or so I thought. L claims not to recall a lot of the evening... tut tut, including how amorous she was. So when I give her chapter and verse on it, she doesn’t know if I’m winding her up or not.

I'm back on the bike today, to top up that improving fitness.

Sort of inspired I enter us for the Cross Bay Challenge. It will be a useful training run.

I will loathe it but it’s the sort of thing you have to say you’ve done at some point. Although the means of proving it, e.g. the t-shirt, is extra.

It could be done as a double header with the Great North Swim the day before... so I book that as well. My first open water swim entry and this was before the first drink of the evening. It has to be done at some point if ‘Operation 70.3’, a project hopefully culminating at the 2014 Nottingham Outlaw Half Ironman, is going to happen. 70.3 miles is the distance covered by swimming, running and cycling.

So I book into the one mile swim, my smart arse partner books into the two mile, naturally. She says I’ll never forget my first Lakeland swim. I’m sure I won’t, particularly if it’s spent clinging to one of the rescue canoes.

(Friday 26^th April)