Tour de Yorkshire

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 to the dogs.

Tour de Yorkshire

The Tour de Yorkshire otherwise known as Le Bloody Tour by my partner. L and I are doing the sportive on day three just hours ahead on the professional race. Stage three actually race runs from Wakefield to Leeds but our sportive is Leeds to Leeds. Otherwise they’d have to bus everyone to either the start or the finish. The whole thing is inspired by the Grand Départ of the Tour de France that of course was in Yorkshire last year.

Today we face the same hills and are supported by almost the same sized crowds, who even come out in numbers for the sportive riders. That’s even more impressive when you realise that we awoke to heavy rain pounding on the house roof morning followed by heavy rain pounding the car as we drove up the M1.

I have been allocated a 9:46 start time for the medium distance 108km route and a plea to be there an hour before, which due to traffic we fail miserably on. L has a slightly later start time as she is doing the short distance 55km route or the Cycletta that isn't. The standard short distance 55km starts at the same time and runs over the same course, so the ‘Cycletta’ can hardly be described as women only.

Now to decide how far to go with the waterproofs. The forecast says it’s probably going to rain for most of the day.

I was one of the last to start and the course is a brute, which may make reaching the cut off time at Ilkey interesting. So full kudos to the professional who are doing this a lot faster than we are. After about an hour the rain eases and eventually stops, I wasn’t expecting that. I roll into the first feed station at Cullingworth having done 49km. The feed is disappointing, serving just cold potatoes, a few digestives and some sweets plus sports drink. Good job I have some bars and gels with me as there’s not much to top up your energy levels there.

A short stop, then off again. The route is nice, jaw droppingly beautiful and the roads are in decent condition. I know they resurfaced many for last year’s race. Then there’s the girls in bikinis braving the weather, stood at the side of the road and waving flags. Then there are the hallucinations brought on by the cold and the lack of food at the feed station. I hope L’s warmed up on her ride. I text her, although her phone keeps going flat and is unlikely to last the day. I get a reply, all seems good.

The terrain, which was tough, suddenly gets tougher. There’s the cobbled climb near Haworth, which was definitely a highlight and then there was Goose Eye, which was astonishingly steep.

Then there are the rivers of blood down some of the descents. That’s not a pretty sight. On one particular stretch we have to ride around four ambulances and in the end were told to get off and walk. Such steep descents and wet roads are not a happy combination.

I head through Silsden and Addingham where we watched the Tour de France from last year. We pass the pub we watched from where once again a crowd has gathered and they cheer us through.

The second feed station is on the Ilkley Road at 70km and this is the vital cut off point. If you don’t get here with room to spare before the pro-race you’re going to have to park up for a while. My group makes it with 20 minutes to spare. Enough time to tuck in to the trays of mini Yorkshire pudding filled with sausages and onion gravy. There are also freshly baked flapjacks. This feed station is as awesome as the first one was awful. L say her feed station was rubbish too and she didn’t get to go to this one. After about five of each, I pedal off and head up the Cow and Calf climb.

The final big climb is the Chevin and it was just after this that my bike decided it had had enough. I’d been experiencing a bit of gear slip with the bike jumping out of lowest gear last week and I’d adjusted things so now it was much better but not quite perfect. Occasionally I had to hold it in gear. I’m not sure if this was a factor of not, when my chain snapped with 11km to go.

L has already finished in 3:32. I could be a lot longer. According to the official timings I had crested the Chevin in 4:46, personally I’d take about 30 minutes off that for my two stops.

I look around for a service bike, they were everywhere earlier. In the end I dial the emergency rescue number. Please send Thunderbirds 1 and 2. What do you mean they’re busy? Instead I book a place on the broom wagon. How embarrassing, although L will be dead jealous.

Unfortunately they tell me that they can’t get to me because the main race is imminent. They tell me it could be hours, so I watch the pro-race go through and then start walking. L meanwhile tries to find me but it’s not easy and she returns to the car park.

I get rescued quicker than expected, although the chap who picks me then gets lost but we get to the car park eventually. Where L is waiting. It's been an inglorious end but it's still the best event I've ever done.

Rutland CiCLE Tour Sportive

L gives me my birthday present early. Some new cycling shorts which I can now wear in today’s sportive. L doesn't make the start line but comes to support with the boys. Who weren’t going to get to come but now do. Again it’s bloody windy. What is it with the weather and my bike at the moment?

This is the Rutland CiCLE Tour Sportive and I’m doing 57 miles, there are two longer and one shorter options. We start from Normanton on the South Shore of Rutland Water, which is the other side to where the duathlon starts. We still end up parking at Sykes Lane though and I have to bike round. This turns out to be 2.4 miles and I’m knackered before I even start. L points out that this is a good warm up.

It takes me 1 hour 33 minutes to reach the one and only feed station at Owston. Shoot me now, as some folk would say. At least they have some decent snacks and real tea, L would approve. I stash some cheesy biscuits in my pocket for later, for the boys.

It’s a tough ride. As well as being windy, the course is hilly. Full of silly little hills that they appear to have gone out of their way to find. At least my new shorts are nice and snug.

I reach the finish, having done 57.58 miles in 3:44. Not exactly quick.

Hidden Peak Sportive

Today we head over to the Lady Manners School in Bakewell for The National Trust’s Hidden Peak Sportive. Actually the peaks aren’t very hidden at all, they’re totally in your face all the time, looming up in front of you and your bike.

Today is L’s sportive debut on her new bike. Cue drum roll. To say she’s a touch nervous would be the understatement of the year. She’ll be fine, I keep telling her. She’s doesn’t believe me obviously.

L does the 38km and I do the 82km which obviously has about twice as many hills in it as we toured around the Central Peak District and Staffordshire Moorlands. Thankfully it also has twice the number of cake stops. Some of the downhills, it has to be said, were awesome. I bet L was glad we got her brakes adjusted.

Everything about the event is good really. It’s well signed, the road surfaces are good and the feed stations well stocked. Some of my route overlaps with the last Sportive we did, also by the same organisers, and they send me up past Thorpe Cloud again. Thanks guys. I really needed to do that one again.

The only downside was perhaps the rumours of sausage roll rationing at the finish and the fact some poor soul had their bike nicked from outside registration.

The weather also behaved itself, turning out remarkably mild and largely dry. Although I’m guessing the guys starting late on the longest route were perhaps not so fortunate.

L comes away with a silver certificate and is stood waiting for me with the dogs as I finish my route. After having stopped to embrace all three of them and to cherish my survival, I roll across the line to collect my bronze one. Hmmm. Apparently I’m one solitary minute outside the silver limit. Be careful who you embrace and for how long on these things.

Stafford Goes Pedalling Sportive

Today Staffordshire Goes Pedalling and we join in. 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.

St Barnabas Grimsthorpe Challenge

This morning, a sort of early morning drive over to Grimsthorpe Castle, which is near Bourne and if that doesn’t help, Bourne is near Grantham. If you don’t know where Grantham is, consult a map.

It’s also a family outing, in that L and the boys come for the trip out too. Even my Mum and Dad are rumoured to be on their way. All without bikes though, I have my bike because it’s another Sportive, the first St Barnabas Grimsthorpe Challenge.

As I check in, the organiser explains there have been a few minor changes to the routes, meaning that mine is now up to 60 miles. I had thought I'd signed up to something of approximately 50-55 miles. I’ve not opted for the 100 mile route this time preferring to see how quickly I can do something of around the Half Ironman distance of 56 miles.

Someone straps a SportIdent orienteering style dibber to my wrist; it's been a long time since I used one of those. Then it’s off to the start area right outside the castle and I roll out across the line at 8.45. L waves goodbye and heads off to take the boys for a good two and a half hour yomp and a paddle.

Today’s event is insured by British Cycling who stipulate the helmets are compulsory, so it's a good job I've remembered mine this time.

Even the weather is playing ball, unlike last weekend the sun is out and there’s no sign of rain. The wind and the hills are ever present though.

Some participants seem to go wrong early on, I don't know how. It’s all very well signed but I think they all just followed each other like sheep.

There are two stops on the route at Pickwell after 31 miles and Geetham after 44 miles. I have one of L’s legendary buns with me to supplement the refreshments they offer us. My Dad was allegedly loitering in another village, Cottesmore, which we went through twice, but I didn’t see him and L later tracks him down at the finish.

It’s a nice route, the only downside being a long stretch of freshly stone chipped road which they probably couldn't avoid. 56 miles (Half Ironman distance) arrives in exactly 3:30 excluding stops. The finish line arrives in 4.09 including stops because by then, somehow, I’ve managed to wipe my bike computer.

There's quite a welcome party as I arrive. My parents, my father's camera, the boys and of course my podium girl who delivers the traditional sweaty kiss.

I have little time to savour the atmosphere though as I have promised to try my legs out with a run. So it’s a quick T1 (transition) and off for a short 2 mile run before arriving back for tea, sandwiches and juice.