“You really must do this time
trail, it’ll be great!” Or words to that effect. Lesley knew that I had admitted an interest in
“competitive” cycling now that running had become a distant memory due to a
misbehaving foot. She was planning to
spend the week in Derbyshire, duathlon training, and
wanted to finish up with a time trial.
Jane had similarly been
persuaded to enter the Grindleford Gallop, a 21 mile fell race held in the
Chatsworth area, as part of marathon training.
Just where shiggy mountainsides resemble the Champs Elysee, I’m not too
sure.
I Googled in the only
information Lesley gave me: the course was LH/7. The search engine immediately found the
Cycling Time Trial website with the course details. It was somewhere up north. Oh well, try phoning the race organiser. The good news is it’s not 25 miles, it’s only
19.5 miles. The bad news is, it’s hilly. One in seven. Bugger. My gearing’s
not too good, nor is the engine. The
good news is, today’s the closing date.
Bad news, get the cheque in the post and I’ll save you a place. Double bugger.
In a panic by now, I e-mailed
Dave Miller who gave encouragement in the form of “Bloody Hell, you’re brave to
do a 25 and you haven’t even done a 10; and it’s hilly? whoaaaa! Still the rest’ll be a doddle after
that!” He confidently stated that my
gears were OK for one in seven; well, he would say that wouldn’t he? I frantically searched the OS sheet of
Last minute preparations
consisted of cleaning the Raleigh Record Sprint, fitting new SPD pedals and
pumping up the tyres. This is a proper
bike, made of gas pipes, none of this fancy carbon or ally rubbish. They were built to last in them days (in fact
it must be 20 years old!).
Saturday 12 March arrived and we
rose before dawn for the trek up North.
The forecast was terrible with 100% chance of snow on Saturday and sleet
on Sunday. Even so, the fell race
proceeded without troubling the Saint Bernard’s, in
fact runners said the conditions were perfect: dehydration and overheating was
not an issue.
Pre-race preparation proceeded
at Matlock Youth Hostel in the form of modest alcoholic celebration for Jane’s
run, and an early night. Just as well
since Lesley and I had to set off before breakfast to make the 0900 start time. The start was about six miles from the
hostel, just enough for a warm up ride.
I planned on riding the hill section of the course to check the
route. Hey, this is tough, and it just
keeps on going. If I’d wanted to scare
myself, I’d have looked closer at the OS map before leaving home. The total vertical each lap is 160m, with
100m in 1km. I was knackered by the time
I reached the start. Just in time. Just as well the numbers were at the start
and not at the HQ, a pub 1 mile and 80m down the hill.
The snow was now starting to
fall. The timekeeper said, “should’ve
snowed in the night then we could have cancelled it! Course was unrideable last week”. Still, it wasn’t freezing on the road and I
thought that if I’d travelled from Oxfordshire, I wasn’t going to miss out on
this one. No sign of Lesley who was
driving from the Hostel.
All too soon my start time
came. The start line was at the top of
the hill and was more like a launch pad.
I felt like Eddie the Eagle as the timekeeper held me back. On the word, he let go and I swooped down the
mountain. The snow stung my face and I
soon reached the top end of the first village.
The road was wet with the falling snow and I was nervous about the road
junctions, parked cars, driveways and other hazards. I was travelling faster than I’d drive a car
through here; perhaps you need to be young and reckless for this game……
I reached the bottom and the
marshal waved the turn for the start of the ascent. It was harder this time but the adrenaline
helped me to the top. A rider passed me
like I was standing still. Chance to
draught would be a fine thing; he’s a hundred yards up the hill by now! Not only is this steep and long, it’s into a
headwind. And the snow is starting to lay on the road.
As I reached the top of the hill
the road was white across half its width.
Take it a bit slower on the bends, no point in crashing out on my first
outing. Two more riders passed me on the
first lap. Quite pleased with this, at
this rate, only half the pack will pass me and I won’t get lapped! Second lap was more of the same except the
hill mysteriously got steeper and the road became whiter. I must be hallucinating. Someone has just passed me wearing something
that looks like a triathlon skin suit, mid-thigh, Lycra, not much else. They breed them tough up north.
I gingerly made the slippery
turn into the start/finish for the second time and the marshal told me to stop.
The race had been reduced due to the worsening weather. Still no sign of Lesley. I was expecting her to pass me.
Gravity took me down to the HQ,
a rather cosy pub with a log fire, tea and bacon butties. And I didn’t have to race up the hill for a
third time. Jane and the kids were
there. Eventually Lesley turned up. She hadn’t had a good morning. A miscalculation resulted in a 30 second penalty
for turning up late at the start. Something to do with the hill between the pub and the start. Also, when the marshal shouted “two laps
finish”, she had thought: “bugger off, I’ve only got one left!” and proceeded
to do the third lap. Still it’s all good
training.
Anyway, the results went up on
the board and I was second in my category!
OK, OK, someone’s got to be last, but I was faster than the lightweights
that DNS or, worse still, DNF. Must’ve
been mamby-pamby Southern Jessies……..See
you again next year!