Great Eastern Flirt

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Today I’m in Peterborough for the Great Eastern Run which is a Half Marathon that has nothing to do with those ‘Great’ and ‘Run’ people.

There are dire predictions of parking chaos but as it happens we park practically on the start line, not sure how that happened.

While I make my way to the start line, L makes her way in to the city centre to find a good viewing point. She’s really going to scout out the local Waterstones but if she gives me a cheer as I run past all the better.

With half an eye on next weekend’s ‘big’ one, I was more than happy to jog round this one in another 1:45. When I ran this race before, in 2014, I got round 1:49 but I was seriously strapped up at the time.

Sadly there isn’t a 1:45 pacer today but there is a 1:40 one. So I thought I might as well flirt with him and see what happens.

The route is very flat as was shown by my split times which were incredibly consistent. I also achieved my aim of getting them all under eight minutes per mile. This is always my aim on a half marathon but it is rarely achieved. My slowest today is 7:41. Which all bodes well for a decent time, although by the end I am hanging on to the pacers for grim death.

There are about a dozen of us running with them but when a group of us stop at one of the later drink stations and the pacers don’t, pandemonium ensues. Runners end up colliding with each other as they attempt to get back on pace and in the end a group of us form our own little peloton around 50 metres behind them.

We do gradually battle our way back to them but never quite gain parity with them again and in the last mile I let them go. I’m more than happy when I come home in 1:40:38. L remarks that it was good that I was ‘taking it easy’. I think she’s impressed.

So a good race, although not a very pretty one once you’ve done the city centre but it’s pleasant enough and well organised. I could have done with a different colour t-shirt though, yellow ugh.

I again use my new trainers and all appears well with them but then it was only a half marathon... next week it isn’t.

In the evening we again tour Canning Circus and wind up at the Park Tandoori for a takeaway curry.

(Sunday 8^th October)

The Grandest Grand Depart

It’s another glorious day both weather side and Le Tour wise.

Today’s route actually passes the camp site. So we get a lie in and Doggo’s paws get a rest.

Yesterday we watched them go up the slight incline in Addingham, today it’s all downhill In Silsden so they come past us much faster.

Once the race has come through we try and head for home but with most of the roads still shut we drive around in circles for a while, before stopping at a pub. Which doesn’t do food obviously.

After driving in a few more circles we finally manage to get to Bradford and then down on to the M1. We pass Sheffield just as the peloton are crawling up the Jenkin Road and on to the the finishing line where Daughter will be doing her stuff as part of the Hallam Uni team.

It’s been excellent. Millions have lined the route and it’s been the grandest Grand Depart ever according to the race director. That is unless you're Mark Cavendish.

(Sunday 6^th July)

Staffordshire Goes Pedalling

Today Staffordshire Goes Pedalling and we join in, sadly leaving the birthday boy, Doggo, at home. L has blagged the 35 mile route which means I have to man up and do the full 70 mile option. The start is at the rather pleasant location of Shugborough Hall.

I roll out at 8.30am with an hour's head start on L. The initial group of about 20 that I’m placed with seem to go off at a steady enough pace and I’m happy to stick with them. As we leave, we are pre-warned that the only hills in the main route are early on and within three miles we are heading up a climb on Cannock Chase. I change down to a lower gear and my chain promptly comes off. Bugger. By the time I’ve got oily and reattached it, my group are no longer looking quite so sedate and are already half way up the climb. I set off in pursuit.

Pretty soon there are bodies all over the hill but I don’t find it that testing and pass most of them, eventually catching up with the front of the group, although gasping and out of breath a touch. Just as I do the four girls in the group opt to pull over to admire each other’s sunglasses. Two of the guys in the group pull over as well, presumably to admire the girls admiring their sunglasses. The remaining four of us 'surge' over the top and immediately form a breakaway group.

We are making reasonable, if unspectacular, progress until a chap appears out of nowhere, doing about twice our pace and seemingly intent on time trailing his way solo through the whole distance. Everyone, except me, attempts to jump on his wheel. Total madness.

Momentarily abandoned and on a descent, I watch a girl upfront take a wrong turn, attempt a swift u-turn, hit some gravel and down she goes. I stop to scrape her off the tarmac and help her wobble to the curb for a sit down. There are plenty of signs on the route but they are small, in not very bright colours and often they do not give you enough advance warning of upcoming turns.

I leave the girl babbling to herself and push on. One by one I catch the foolhardy ex-members of my breakaway group, now with their tails firmly between their legs. I stick with one of them and with Cannock Chase now behind us we head through Lichfield. We’re going nowhere fast again but I’m happy to gently advance towards the first feed station which is after 36 miles. Then bizarrely the guy I’m following decides to stop and dismount in the middle of the road. I swerve around him and am almost wiped out by the fast moving peloton coming up behind me, which I had no idea was so close. Where was the chap on the motorbike holding the blackboard telling me that they were like 5 seconds behind?

As everyone pieces their nerves back together I try to look as anonymous as possible amongst their number and hitch a ride. We head over the A38 and round past Catton Hall where there is as expected a dog show in progress, there always is. Although not in their usual field that’s been taken over by the Bloodstock musical festival.

Then we roll in to the feed at Barton Under Needwood. Held in a bike shop with one toilet (big queue) and a stock of bananas, water, energy bars and gels. No tea and cake, shame. The CNP black cherry gels are rather nice though and would be great drizzled on ice cream.

The peloton that I swept in with are still recuperating or OD-ing on the black cherry, so I head off alone but following someone, so that they can spot the signs for me. Even then I miss one, even though the rider I was following took the turn.

That rider is one of the girls who was in the group I chased up the initial climb and eventually the rest of her group sweep us both up and yay, I’m moving swiftly in a group again. Then disaster. None of the eight of us see the upcoming right turn until it’s too late. The chap pulling on the front yells as we pass it, the girl behind him screams as she passes it, clips him and goes down. The girl behind goes over the top of her and the person behind her, me, takes swift but successful evasive action. We all stand at the road side and survey the damage count...  two cracked helmets, a pair of smashed sunglasses, a twisted but fixable set of front forks and quite a bit of blood. 

The group quickly swells to about 30 concerned faces, so I make my excuses and hope-you're-oks and head off to the second feed at Blithfield Reservoir which is just a mile away. If this look familiar, it is, it’s where I cycled in the triathlon last weekend and I now head across the very same causeway. The feed also has cakes, so that’s good. Still no tea though. Whilst there I get a text from L, saying she’s now at the finish. So it sounds like her new tyres stayed up.

I have just 12 miles to go, which is achieved without incident and back in a group.

At the finish there is real ale, a decent ham roll and bag full of bling that sadly will mostly go in the bin.

Afterwards we head home to the boys and take an evening stroll to Beeston. There we have fish and chips on a park bench. It's sort of a post-event treat for us but also for the birthday boy. Unfortunately they are very greasy and remind me why I don’t have Fish and Chips very often. They're never as good as you remember. Then on to the Crown for some decent-ish beers.

(Saturday 10^th August)

The First One Gets Closer With Each Pedal Turn

So what do you do when your Crufts qualifier is cancelled, a 100 mile bike ride of course. The Great Nottinghamshire Bike Ride. As it promises to be a nice day, I go down at 7am to pay on the day.

This is my first long bike ride for around a year. I’ve done nothing greater than the 15 mile each way route to work and not even that very often. Too much bloody running.

This year for the first time it starts from the Victoria Embankment rather than its previous home of Holme Pierrepont. This is a definite step up and much easier to get to. Unfortunately after a too fast cycle there, I’m exhausted already. Only the 100 miles to go then.

The sportive is now 100 miles not 75, which is what I did last time. There’s also a 48 mile route, which no longer goes through Newark like I think all the others have. L is doing that but will start later, so hopefully we’ll finish together. There’s also a 19 mile route and a three mile one.

There are loads here queuing up to start and loads, like me, paying on the day. The ride seems to be going from strength to strength now that the council have relinquished it to an events management company. That rather large German electricity company who took over East Midlands Electricity sponsor it, but never mind. It’s now a three day festival called ‘Cycle Live’ with some interesting races on the Friday night that had I been free I would have been tempted down to see.

I start and skip the first two feeds stations. The first one because it’s not open yet and the second one, because I can. Eventually after 34 miles I pull into the car park of the Royal Oak at Car Colson. Regrettably they’re only serving High 5, who are on board as a sponsor.

Meanwhile, back at the Embankment L is lining up to start and the DJ is apparently playing ‘Panic’ by The Smiths. Which she thinks is rather apt.

My second stop is at 56 miles, the Caunton Beck, ooooh it’s a pub crawl. The Caunton Beck is in err Caunton. Wherever that is. My geographical knowledge of Nottinghamshire expired when we went through Southwell.

The final feed station is after 72 miles at Wellow or rather it isn’t. It’s been moved three miles further down the road to Eakring. Oh well three miles nearer the finish. All the other feed stations have asked for donations in exchange for cakes etc but here they have a price list for food, so I skip it. Although I do fork out 50p for a cup of tea mainly because the High 5 has ran out here. Not good. L meanwhile is having tea at Radcliffe with 10 miles to go and is therefore well ahead of me. My peloton isn't going to pull that particular breakaway back.

As I join the end of the shorter routes I realise just how many people there are without helmets, I’m surprised they allow that. 99% of the 100 milers have one though. I pass through Radcliffe, stopping briefly to check my phone for messages and finding one from L with her feet up at the finish, by the beer tent.

The route has been much better this year, easily the best one I’ve done. Yet still they have to take us over the pot holes at Holme Pierrepont, even when we don’t start there. Not good for folk with decent bikes.

Then I cross the... start line. Seems they’ve had the start/finish banner wrong way around all day. Bet they wonder why all these psychos on road bikes keep on sprinting after the line, just in case there is another banner somewhere with finish on it. After several panicky hand signals from a lass in a yellow jacket I slow down to a stop. I make the route actually 103 miles not 100 but never mind.

Even L ‘enjoyed’ it despite finding it psychologically tough, because she’s puncture phobic. Not that she’s ever had one, which just convinces her the first one gets closer with each pedal turn.

The Riverbank Bar is running a beer tent but with no real ale. I had expected Castle Rock to be here but they’re not, so along with many others we adjourn to the Ferry Inn instead. Not great but better.

(Sunday 15th July)