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@The_Seldom_Killer
I opened last year's cycling account with a bit of a bad start owing to a pretty harsh period of winter. I managed to keep commuting but in the freezing weather that knocked it out of me and getting out at the weekends was nigh impossible to do any decent distance safely so I resorted to spinning classes. I mean seriously, paying money to ride indoors, it just ain't right. But it was all in aid of a goal so you have to take the rough with the smooth.
Somewhere around the end of Jan I managed to take the fixed out from Sheffield to Derby to see the Cyclocross National Champs. The route took me over a large patch of ice (cue comedy stack) and the Amber Valley. Not smart but hey, it's all for a laugh.
In feb I managed to get out on my first 200k in Feb for the Kennet Valley Run. It was a shocking performance and I wondered if I was really going anywhere this year. Later in March I had a crack at The Dean 300k with a definite cut off time of making it back in time for the last train home. I managed it by 10 minutes to spare. Still not a great performance for what I thought my riding should be like but satistactory. I took to spending weekends ripping around the Peak District in search of some hill climing muscle.
The 400k didn't bode well with a brilliant opening leg being wiped out by a dose of heat exhaustion. I rolled into 300k looking close to death and after an hour's sleep rolled out looking only slightly better. Managed to get to the finish in roughly the same time as the previous year plus a little bit so beat myself up over that as well.
The 600k in May was to be my toughest challenge, tackling the near legendary Bryan Chapman Memorial. In short, I almost completely fucked it up by over-reaching, holding some unfounded expectations and not thinking through things properly. Almost on the limit at 39hrs I was close to calling the whole year a write off and taking up philatelism. I put on a brave face but internally my fears were eating at me. My salvation came in another attempt at a 600k in June. An easier ride more simliar to my goal of Paris-Brest-Paris in terrain, if not support. Despite starting half an hour late and kicking it hard off route to pull back some time it went fairly well. The northbound leg into the wind was gruelling but I found I was handling it better then I thought I would. On the return leg I pulled up to the 520k mark having already gone over distance and pulled back a time disadvantage. As it started to piss down I huddled under the petrol station shelter and considered my options. a) ride four hours south to the finish, get back to the station, train to Sheffield, an hours ride home or b) turn west and ride two hours home, get some sleep and still manage to get to work in a decent state the next day. I bailed but at no detriment to what I knew I was capable of and some valuable lessons that I had learnt on the way.
In July I ran the tough challenge of riding the Dunwich Dynamo from Sheffield. A big solo effort to give me one last practice night ride before the big event. I kicking myself over time/distance progress for a bit until I realised I'd miscalculated and was doing fairly good. I reached the destination in good spirits. I followed it up with my first ever sub-10hr 200k so went into PBP in good form and with a healthy dose of optimism.
PBP itself was a wonderful experience, highs, lows, serenity and beauty. The love of the French for cycling events is at it's pinnacle and you spend up to four days hailed as a legend and a hero. You fast learn that in this country we're piss poor at celebrating extrordinary endeavours and suffer for it. Even cyclists are pretty shoddy at supporting their own kind. It's one of the highlights of my life although I vowed never to do it again.
Following that things got pretty dark. Such a comedown was always going to be hard to manage and I hit some pretty severe low points through and after recovery. I took up polo but had little to aim for, nothing to challenge myself with and was pretty despondent for a couple of months. I finally took it on myself to get back to audaxing so if nothing else I wouldn't turn into a useless lump resting on paltry and fading laurels. I rode fixed from Swindon to Rugby over the Cotswolds and then reverted to riding fixed for commuting. This has made me really happy so I entered the Winter Solstice 200k and out of 73 entrants was one of 2 finishers (admittedly only 18 signed on at the start). I'm not really "dick-swinging" here but it's nice to know that I'm not only doggedly determined enough to not give up in the face of a few difficulties (snow, rain, freezing fog, ice, crashing etc) and reckless enough to give it a go when I know better.
It's been a hard, challenging, beautiful, rewarding, painful and maturing year. Cycling has bought be some wonderful things although I still have some nightmares about the harsh lows on PBP. I'm sure I'll be over it soon so I reckon I'm going back. I look at those that found it even harder than me and suffered more and still persevered to get to the end and take inspiration. One of these days I might just believe that I'm not a shit cyclist whose luck is about to run out and expose him to be the fraud he thinks he really is.
tl;dr? I rode a long way. I'm still a bit of a twat. I mean really, look at me, what the fuck do I think I'm doing.