King Of The Mountains

It is a mere 2 degrees overnight and it’s fair to say a bit nippy in the tent but at least it isn’t raining for the sportive.

The professionals are doing Middlesbrough to Scarborough but sadly we’re just doing a small section of that. Well most of L’s 40km is actually on the route but my 85km includes a big loop round Dalby Forest which isn’t. Sadly a lot of these roads are narrow, mud strewn, potholed and spectator free. In fact even the 'on course' sections are largely spectator free as they have set us off so early that no one is in place yet unlike last year when the crowds were fantastic and cheered us up all the hills. Problem was us amateurs almost held the experts up when they caught us up, so I assume things had to change.

The event, while still good, isn’t a patch on last year’s in other ways too. The ‘toad in the hole’ and fresh flapjack feed station isn’t repeated and the finish takes place in total gridlock on the roads into Scarborough. As people head into town in their cars to watch the race the riders slalom in and out trying to reach the finish line. A tad dangerous I think. At least the last 2k is traffic free.

We all do get a crack at the Harwood Dale ‘King of the Mountains’ climb where David Millar has kindly set the time to beat at 3:57.

After the race I head back to camp. L has already finished, had an isotonic beer and gone off to see if we need to reclaim the dogs from the RSPCA. We don’t head in to watch the race and hide in the tent instead from the cold and the damp, we’ll amuse ourselves instead with life's essentials.

In the evening we visit the nearby Scalby Manor eatery for some Black Sheep, a bottle of red and some food. Nothing dark again.

(Sunday 1^st May)

A Whiff Of Vinegar

It's another lazy Sunday with a long lie in. I’m getting quite used to all this which will all change once the running\sportive\triathlon\dogging seasons start up.

The laziness is curtailed by this evening’s Track Session at the velodrome on my new bike. First I have to ‘treat’ the tyres. Whatever that means. The internet recommends wiping them with wine vinegar or using sandpaper. Apparently this removes the oils associated with the manufacturing of the tyres which would normally be removed by cycling on the road. The wooden boards of the velodrome wouldn’t have chance to do this before you ended up in a heap at the bottom of the banking. I try both methods to be on the safe side.

The good news is my ‘treating’ works and I stick to the wood. The only downside is that the bike smells strongly of vinegar. The upside is that the higher gearing of the bike gives me the extra oomph I require and I even come second in the Elimination Race. I’m a bit gutted with second actually as I thought I got my tactics spot on for once. 

The new bike does also creak a bit. Either that’s ‘cheap’ bikes for you or perhaps it just needs breaking in like a new pony and will improve with age.

L runs the 13k to the velodrome and afterwards we go for a couple of drinks in the Harrington with my Dad before the now traditional Sunday night Indian takeaway from the Park Tandoori.

(Sunday 21^st February)

Seize The Initiative

L starts her (latest/updated/improved - delete as applicable) fitness regime this morning with a powerful (her words) swim and presumably she’ll top that with a powerful run tonight. That is, after she’s finished taking training tips from the resident Ironman(woman) where she now works. I wonder if she’s been talked into anything exciting...

Just in case she hasn't, I seize the initiative and the enthusiasm, offering her the Nottingham Life Cycle Sportive on Sunday 23rd August. It starts from Nottingham Uni and will be good training for the Vitruvian 70.3 I'm doing the week after and there’s £5 off if I enter this week. I enter the 50 mile, L will do the 25 mile.

I have another track session tonight, where I must try not fall off. Of the sixteen people on the session, it turns out that seven are redoing level 2 just for the practice. This hugely intimidates the other nine who aren’t. The presence of a photographer (my Dad) snapping away taking photos probably didn't help either.

It’s a very good session and a full one because nobody fell off this time, not even me. Then I rush home, grab the dogs and head straight to dog training where I am only ten minutes late.

(Monday 6^th July)