After a fast and difficult ride last week taken by Wilf and Hugh, I was expecting this week to be slightly less demanding as Elaine was taking it. My first ever club ride was taken by Elaine and to date, it was my favourite - going up through Capheaton to Kirkharle. However, either I’ve upset Elaine, or she was feeling rather vindictive when she planned today’s route, as it included several climbs. Coming out of Anna’s cafe (which a couple of riders had been unceremoniously kicked out of for not buying anything - a little harsh I thought) someone was asking Peter how hard the ride was going to be. Pointing at me, Peter said, “Well obviously not that hard”.
Hmm… Peter 1 James 0.
As we set off I jested at Peter that I would have my eye on him all day. This turned out to be a mistake, as Peter suggested I take the front with Elaine and set the pace, which I dutifully did.
Peter 2 James 0
For those who don’t know (or realise) riding at the front, at any pace, is harder than riding anywhere else in the pack. You take the full force of the wind, sheltering those behind you. Some say it can be up to 40% more difficult at the front, so trust me if you’re in the 2nd or 3rd row back doing 15mph and feeling fine, the guys at the front aren’t feeling quite so fine.
The destination was Capheaton, but I knew we were in trouble when we reached a T-junction with a signpost pointing right for Capheaton. We turned left towards what might as well have been Scotland.
As we weaved through the country roads in glorious sunshine (with a bit of a head wind) I got used to riding at the front. Talking wasn’t so easy for me, and behind me I could hear everyone chirping away merrily. We obviously weren’t going fast enough. We rode through Stanfordham, and to the first of the 3 climbs.
Perfectly aware that I am not the strongest rider in the bunch, I have become totally fed up of struggling up the hills as everyone passes me with free and easy breathing. So on the first climb I stretched my legs, expecting several riders to eat me up straight away. To my surprise I got to the top and no one had left the bunch. I felt an idiot. Still, at least I hadn’t struggled up the hill like normal.
The group caught up and I carried along at the front until the next hill, which again I pushed up. This time I wasn’t completely alone, and was pleased that the second climb hadn’t owned me.
We then descended the Ryals nearly hitting 40mph, and after a moment of blind panic where I thought I’d gone straight past the right hand turn, we slowed and took the real right turn. We climbed a slow steady climb for a couple of miles (during which Don/Dom had bike trouble for the second week in a row) followed by a nice steady descent into Capheaton.
At Capheaton we ran into some more Vagabonds, and we pretty much filled the cafe. Tea, scone and conversations later (including finding out that Garmin do a GPS heart rate monitor that you can strap to your horse to monitor it’s heart rate) we left for Ponteland. The ride back was mainly downhill with a tail wind, so a warm feeling came over me as I sat spinning with my hands on the hoods. Even if this is as good as it gets on a bike, it’s still pretty darn good.
In Ponteland, I still felt pretty fresh, so opted to ride to KB Cycles for my Saturday afternoon meeting rather than drive. The only person going that way was Peter, so I tagged along. Peter kept a brisk pace all the way from Pont past the airport and down through Woolsington, and for the most part I struggling to keep on his wheel. Perhaps I wasn’t as fresh as I thought.
Peter 3 James 0
Peter also seemed to dance his way around roundabouts like a courier with a deadline, whereas I not only got stuck waiting for a precession going into Kingston Park but also struggled to get my feet in and out of the Speedplay pedals. Peter and I parted company in Cowgate, and I headed towards Scotswood - mostly downhill but with a headwind so there would be no freewheeling. It then slowly dawned on me that whatever direction I went from KB Cycles, it would be uphill to Ponteland.
Crap.
My route back took me through Throckley and over the top to Ponteland which for the most part I struggled with. It seems the hills remember, and after dancing up the first few climbs of the day, mother nature was getting her own back on me. In fact, she was mocking me. The Bitch. The final stretch into Pont was immense fun, a slight downhill with a tailwind let me spin at 30mph before negotiating my way back to my little Fiat 500 and home.
The final tally - 50 miles. This is the most I have done outside, and whilst there was a couple of breaks, it’s all good miles going into the legs.
As with every Saturday ride, I came away with a mixture of feelings. I felt a little disheartened when Alan rifled up the third climb looking extremely fresh and I had absolutely nothing left to give. But on a positive note, Lucy told me that one day I might make one hell of a cyclist. Words of encouragement are always gratefully received, even if I don’t have that level of personal belief just yet.
Next stop: my first ever 10 mile time trial.
Double crap.
HI James,
Good luck for tomorrow night, you too Steve ,
Danny.