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@CYOA
Surrey.
God in heaven.
That wasn't fun. 50 fixed miles on a 42-16 for a fatty like me. We started late as all trains to the destination were cancelled inexplicably. One of our number had to get a cab from Surbiton to the destination as his tube was delayed.
Eventually we got there and started riding about an hour after the main pack. We were told prior that for a charity ride, it wasn't that hilly (apart from Leith Hill which was ferocious) that's why I felt up to the challenge of riding fixed rather than something useful. With gears.
About 5 miles of short but steep hills we came across a monster. Canopied by trees, you couldn't see that it just went on and on and on. Eventually we came to the summit and were met with a flat open field with incredible views of Canary Wharf about 25-30 miles away. On we went and after about 15 miles we started to catch up with the stragglers of the main group.
On we went. Thinking we were doing very well we came across a check-point with a marshal and asked, "So how much have we done? 30?35?"
"Oh no... You've only done 20".
At about 35 miles we reached Leith Hill. Dozens of cyclists in lycra with carbon triathlon bikes struggling all the way up it. The other 6 in my group with geared bikes struggling, me with my 70.2 GI and a large backpack carrying all the tools, tubes, food, drink for 7 people - yes, struggling too.
But eventually we peaked it and tore down the hill trying to see clearly and avoid the cyclists coming up the other way through the mottled light and tears created by the speed. Also trying to avoid the potholes in the road and the patches of gravel at the corners - there were a couple of nasty injuries we saw on the way down so it was quite a real danger.
At the bottom of Leith Hill we came across a pub and thought... why not. A half hour break with a couple of pints of Guinness and a packet of Scampi Fries and we were away. Only to go around the corner and find Leith Hill proper.
A mile and a half of 18% Gradient. It felt like the fucking Alpe d'Huez. I had to walk the last couple of hundred yards - I say walk, it was more akin to bouldering. Ropes and a harness would have been useful.
10 or so agonising miles more and we reached what we were promised by a marshal was the final mile, we thought we'd go out in style and sprinted for the last stretch. And then the mile after that. And then the third mile. It just went on. Eventually we were too exhausted to move and thankfully came across the line all in one group.
A brief rest and we cycled the mile or two back to the station, where we promptly fell asleep on the train back to Waterloo. Then another 45 minutes to cycle back home followed by a bath in time for tea and medals.
Right now I need to space out for about an hour and contemplate the damage I've done to my body.
Oh and by the way, what was Tynan doing at the finish line?
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