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Saturday was a write off due to writing lots of job applications but made up for it on Sunday by having a quick ride around the north edge of the Cotswolds followed by six hours of testing a rebuilt pedalcar to make sure it's ready for the new season and then a lovely sunset ride to finish.
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I've noticed some shoddy ride reports slipping in here of late...like 'garmin stats only' shoddy.
mf to please discipline weekend ride report slackers.
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detailed ride reports are all good to read because concieveably you can take the details and do them yourself,
I get the impression that TheoryS example of L-B is just 'weve all done it' so why give details which I can totally understand.
Really if the writing is entertaining then its serving its purpose,
notathreadnazi -
nah, you've missed me, a little description is all it takes...I didn't want to single out anyone...but this is what I was talking about...
Started: 12 Mar 2011 12:12:36
Ride Time: 1:57:33
Stopped Time: 1:03:37
Distance: 26.51 miles
Average Speed: 13.53 miles/h
Fastest Speed: 31.45 miles/h
Ascent: 975 feet
Descent: 926 feetWhere in herts are you? I've been trying for a while to track down local riders.
easy, hard, shit day, good day, who knows? It looks like a nice route in some places most lfgssers won't get to frequently...I like reading other people's ride stories even if they're only a sentence like TheorySwine's (which was short but had colour), but stats are a little dull on their lonesome. 'sall.
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Started: 2hrs easy Regent's on Sat
Ride Time:BBQ, boozin, out
Stopped Time: home, cdj's,too late to ride
Distance:pickup rebuilt wheel
Ascent:4am whoops
Descent: beers w/ murts, pie,watch tv work on bike,ice cream
Average Speed:wake
Fastest Speed: 2hrs Regent's this morning on tt bike to make up for yesterday (don't tell the coach)I see Hippy got the hang of that formula immediately, I find it a bit hard to fit in
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meh
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Took the long bike out, up the drag to Bath road, along the ridge at the top, then down Cranbury hill. Followed the Oxford road, moving among the stationary traffic.
Got to the pet shop, loaded up 20 kgs of wild bird seed (the husk free mix) and headed up Norcot road, famous for Ekimovs descent for the win in the 98 Prutour. The extra 20 kgs on a 20 kgs bike was entertaining, but I managed it in the big ring. Loads of House Sparrows twittering in the gardens of the council houses all the way up the climb. Then down the Meadway and on to the Bath road, then back home. 6 miles.
Must get out more -
So Saturday was a pretty lame race at Hog Hill, a fortnight of bad training and a night out before hand ruined it. It was a quick one, and actually the first half was great. If only it was half the distance. I ruined myself chasing down an obviously doomed break and that was it. I was dropped the next time the hill came around.
Here's me thinking "WTF is the point of being first up the F'ing hill. WTF am I doing. Slow down!".
Sunday was a lovey, fast ride in Essex (the TNRC E4 route). A lot of riders out including Purple MJ who we saw three times, due to us taking a different route and stopping to repair a puncture.
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Friday 4 hrs out from Hither Green to Richmond Park for 3 laps and then a couple of half laps with sprints back to the caff, then back through town to Regent's Park for a couple of fast interval type laps and home.
Saturday Herne Hill for training so c. 100m over two days with 6 hrs on the bike
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nah, you've missed me, a little description is all it takes...I didn't want to single out anyone...but this is what I was talking about...
easy, hard, shit day, good day, who knows? It looks like a nice route in some places most lfgssers won't get to frequently...I like reading other people's ride stories even if they're only a sentence like TheorySwine's (which was short but had colour), but stats are a little dull on their lonesome. 'sall.
That's fair enough. Personally i'd prefer to know all the key stats rather than what the weather was like or who you rode with.
I totally see where you are coming from though, it'd be quite nice to see pictures of people on their ride (like above) but maybe that's not a consideration for people riding against the clock.
When ever i'm out riding its more about having fun and going on an adventure as opposed to shaving seconds, maybe that'll change though.
Like i said in a previous post there seems to be a negative correlation between how expensive a rider's bike is and their willingness to smile and say afternoon.In answer to your question it was an easy pace ride (hence the hour stop time) but I'm trying to lengthen the overall distance, then when i get fitter then shorten the time.
Also It's just nice to be out in the sun with a few friends cruising around the countryside. -
Being naturally exercise-shy and hardly fleet of foot, and having read the calls for more description of rides in this thread, which I agree with, I’d just like to say that my brief exposition above into the delights of my our first ride to b/right/on was written on the train on the way home, on an iphone with their daft useless keypad things, hands trembling, beer inviting, eyes of red. It was all I could muster. I was kaput. Finished, in anyone’s money. So now, having come through the other side, the unedited version.
It was arranged on a whim that we cycle down, as Yas was to visit her dad and sister who both live in b/right/on, as it was her birthday this weekend. We planned to take the train and our bikes along, to have a little jolly once there. But with the best of British and half-Turkish we declared ‘Sod it’, and looked up bike routes online. The one I favoured for some reason wouldn’t print out, or something, so we found another more meandering (I think) route spread across 4 pages of a map, beginning in Sutton. Yas successfully printed this out and turned up at mine on Sunday morning at a time when in a previous life I’d normally be rolling home, eyes bulging. We set off a little behind schedule, 8.10, bound for Sutton, with an empty LMNH drinks bottle, some Laduree macaroons, Minstrels, Mars bars and optimism for company. And tobacco.
Never been to Sutton before, nothing to recommend it so far as I could see. We took a little rest there, poured Ribena into the drinks-bottle and smoked a couple of roll-ups. Ate some sugary bits. We were still keen. We set off again, along a dire road it must be said, where we both found the rest had not allowed us to recuperate at all – in fact, it had done the opposite. The first struggle then, so soon as to be entirely unexpected. The weather closed in too. A man on a crappy old mountain bike, on his lowest gear and with a rear tyre submerged into the road, maybe at 20 psi if he was lucky, rode past us as if we weren’t moving. Perhaps we weren’t; stationery, like a stubborn dog which refuses to move further on its walk. How was he doing this, this riding a bike thing? Why did I feel tired? I ride a long way each week; wasn’t I getting fitter? Anyway, bugger him, we eventually caught up with him, only for him to take us back when we took maybe the 10th of what seemed like thousands of map consulting sessions. It must be said, Yas was superb with navigating, while I was superb with looking pretty. I got us to Sutton, which is South of the river after all and I live in West London, so I was satisfied enough with that.
Anyway, time for the first bit of fun – Dorking Road I think it was, which made us feel like we’d finally slipped the grip of The Big Smoke and were Somewhere Else. Great descents and corners, sweeping away, bags of fun, point the bike in a direction and let it go; damn it felt fine. Things were looking up. The next hour or so was spent marvelling at the delights of the Great British Countryside, rolling fields and animal noises, gulping in clean, refreshing air, sat atop a bicycle. This is what we’d signed-up for, this feeling of powering yourself to a different place, in all senses of the expression. While the first page of our map had been mostly busy crap, the second page had us pass through places with 1 bus a week and no public telephones. Nice to visit, couldn’t possibly lay my hat there though. On another stretch of lanes a farmer was busying himself with what farmers do, whatever that may be, while his dog looked on. What a scene it was. As we passed though the dog took a great dislike to our first intrepid traveller, me, and ran at me growling and barking. I laughed, sure he’d soon tire of it. He ran alongside me however for longer than I’d have liked, and I began to fear for my ankles. This dog meant business. I could hear the faint farmer’s cry of ‘Lucky, Lucky’, as he tried in vain to summon his dog home and prevent his attack on me. Stupid bloody terrier. Anyway, Lucky gave up after a while and ran back to his home, passing Yas without so much as a look in her direction. His problem was entirely with me. I did not feel like Nature Boy. I felt alien out here, wherever it was.
Time ticked on, while our progress seemingly didn’t. Yes we were moving, we were certainly on the go, but time seemed to race ahead, mocking us. ‘Keep pedalling though, just keep pedalling’, through this bloody quicksand that engulfed us, I thought. Pretty pubs cropped up here and there, and I longed to go in and sample too much local brew, smoke and listen to men with pork-chop sideburns put the world to rights. I’d have joined them, whether they’d like it or not. But there was no time, we needed to arrive in b/right/on at a reasonable hour so as to do the family birthday thing. My Ribena offered not much by way of consolation. We took a rest come the end of each page of our route, which for the first 2 pages had both been at a railway crossing. At the end of page 2 we broke out the macaroons and guzzled a can of coke between us. It was a refreshing pit-stop thankfully. We didn’t know what was in store for us though on page 3. It started well enough, in fact it began with another memorable road, whose name I forget, but it was high up, long and flat, with stunning views. We acknowledged passing cyclists, wondering where they were headed. Then the weather took a serious turn for the worst. It hammered it down. Our height didn’t help, and off in the distance we could see brighter skies, but for 20 minutes or so we got thoroughly kippered. Bravely, or foolishly, we just carried on, refusing shelter. We were driven. Perhaps crazed. My new Rapha cap was soaked. So was the rest of me. Water dripped from the end of my nose, and my glasses were steamed up and covered in rain-smears. I couldn’t see much, but I could feel plenty, and I didn’t much like what I felt. The first mutterings of whether we should get the train surfaced, but we were both certain that would be a cop-out we’d later regret. We stuck it out, and eventually the rain passed. We were sodden though, right through.
Hours had now passed, and we had a full page of our route to get through. I had dropped into a puny gear I never use, but it felt so stiff. Yas, riding fixed, didn’t have the luxury of my gears, but I couldn’t fathom how even on a flat road cycling had become such hard work. My regular gear was simply out of the question. It was beyond me. We made a wrong turn, our first mistake. We stopped by the side of the road, and a motorist pulled alongside to enquire whether we were OK. Lying, we told him we were. This pain-cave, it’s real. We were submerged in it. He drove off. Damn him, damn him to hell, in his quick, motorised vehicle. It was tough. I rode back to look at the road-sign, and saw that we were heading for the A23, right into b/right/on. Screw the map, it had served us well, but this road ended up where we wanted to be. That was all we needed to know, so off we went again. Finally, some civilisation. A petrol station. For hours it had been chickens, sheep and crazed terriers. We went in and stocked up on Ginsters and Walkers ‘finest’, devouring it all in stony silence. We hadn’t brought enough food, and we were both ravenous. Then, some good news. Another sign informed us that b/right/on was a mere 7 miles away. 7 miles. That’s less than my 1 way journey to work. This was glorious news. Trouble was this was the A23 where we had no right to be, but there was a cycle-path alongside. We set off with renewed determination, and glimpsed the city off in the distance. We were nearly there.
Finally, we passed a sign welcoming us to Brighton & Hove. I raised my hand in victory. Yas made a joyous sound. We’d done it. After another half an hour we pulled up at her sister’s pub. It was 5.05. We’d been on the go for 9 hours. I couldn’t believe how long it had taken us. Scrub an hour off that for the times we rested, and about 45 minutes for route checking, and you’re left with our journey time. For sure it’s not the route the forum take on these rides, as we missed Ditchling altogether, although we rode along Ditchling Road once in town. We went to another pub where some of Yas’s family had gathered, and I was delighted to find it served Hoegaarden. There could have been no greater gift than this. I was parched. Then, a moment of thanks from the gods of something or other. In my bag I had precisely, to the penny, enough for 2 pints of the stuff. It was meant to be. They tasted good. The roast chicken did not. Today though I’ve been dismayed to find that according to google pedometer, b/right/on is exactly 48.543 miles from my home, and our start-point, albeit in a straight-line. Surely it’s more? Anyway, we’d obviously not ridden in a straight line, but I know not of how many extra miles can be added to our ride. It was a funny old route. Glorious in places, in fact most of it was all very pretty, but like I said before, a field is a field. They’re nice, but I can’t get overly excited about them after the sixth hour. I’d like to try another route. It was quite a day. I saw the sea. I did not get fish and chips. We had no mechanicals at all, other than mental. The bikes kept us going, just like we kept them going. Mine felt glorious throughout, the saddle I picked up at the LMNH jumble passing its first long-ride test. We’ve signed-up for the Cambridge ride. It’s further than b/right/on. Maybe I’ll sell my bikes.
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tl;dr
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Ladbroke Grove to b/right/on today. Took a long and scenic route, sick of sheep and chickens come the end. Seen 1 country lane, seen them all. Did it geared, Yas fixed. Tired now.
^
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Hah, nice write up, I'll wind my neck in
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Sunday was a lovey, fast ride in Essex (the TNRC E4 route). A lot of riders out including Purple MJ who we saw three times, due to us taking a different route and stopping to repair a puncture.
It was great seeing you and Tom looking smart in your Rollaz kit (I think it was Tom?) We had a couple of punctures and a slip on a bend between us along with a fairly newbie learning all about the bonk with 60k to go as we nursed him back...
Was BMMF in that TT do you know? -
Out with HDW inc Clubman today
http://connect.garmin.com/player/72819093
Chris is hilarious to ride with, on our way back at windsor he was muttering that the pace needed to be dropped a bit, I was flagging so was happy about this. Chris took the lead and we were off again at over 20mph. In the car on the way back he was talking about French band desinee this is a distraction tactic- I think he is a closet Belgian hard man.
Prancer is mistaken about my origins - my lack of skill in French pronounciation does not qualify me as a Belgian.
I may have been doing 20 mph after Windsor (we did have a tail wind), but I'm sure I was going slower than the two previous leaders.
Our route yesterday is one of my favourite TR's. I believe it's good for the ride to have a* denouement* - a point where it becomes clear who is the strongest - after which everyone can relax a bit. On this one it's the second major climb - the one up to Stokenchurch. It's not steep, but there are nearly two miles of it and since we've already done about 45 fairly hilly miles it's usually enough to sort out the real hard men. Although the road here is the main A 40 there are amazingly few cars on this section, presumably because it's so close to the M 40.
However in these days of super bikes I'm beginning to wonder if I shouldn't make things a bit more challenging by leaving the B4009 at Chinnor and doing the much harder ascent of Chinnor Hill to Bledlow Ridge. One disadvantage would be that I would be so far off the back I wouldn't see any of the action.You will note that we did not do the 100 mile ride as advertised. It was decided to postpone this because of the rain but we hope to have another go in two weeks time (our Road Race is next Sunday, so no ride then).
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It was great seeing you and Tom looking smart in your Rollaz kit (I think it was Tom?) We had a couple of punctures and a slip on a bend between us along with a fairly newbie learning all about the bonk with 60k to go as we nursed him back...
Was BMMF in that TT do you know?It was Tom.
We were saying how smart you Rapha chaps looked actually.
What happened with the slip? Gravel?
A bonk with 60k to go sounds like a horrible place to be. I had a sauna session on Friday which wiped me out and made my gentle ride from Euston to Surbitton hell.
Don't know if BMMF was in the TT. I assume there was a two up category (or whatever they're officially called) as some of the marshalls seemed to think me and Tom were taking part despite drafting each other.
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The weather and my legs were against me on Sunday so I hid away at home instead of logging some honest miles. I stared at the turbo, I heard it whisper, but I turned away and pottered about the house. The contrast of this morning was pronounced; awoken by sunshine and suitably rested the question was not 'will I go for a ride?' but 'where will I be riding?'.
I don my jersey (short sleeve - sunshine instills optimism) and go for the bibshorts instead of the three quarters (golden rays! it's practically summer!), grab some freshly made banana bread and stare at google maps for a bit, pondering which part of 'not London' looks most tempting. For convenience I stick with a loop I've done before (I call it the long loop, because it's about 20 miles longer than my short loop. but it's not as mercenary as the name suggests). Sunday's rain provides a pause for hesitation - the last time I did this route a day after rainfall there were flooded backroads and slippery climbs, but the sunshine left me undeterred. Mudguards stay in the hallway, hope on the bike, and I'm out.
Once I'm on the bike it's all a bit of a blur, brain shuts down and I just let the green move around me. The sun disappeared around mile 25. At Four Elms I had a dangerous thought, and set the Garmin to instead point me round the HotA course. At the next junction I had a change of heart and stuck with the original plan, a total of 90 miles is a bit heavy for a Monday when I've got more riding planned throughout the week. Cotman's Ash, as always, reminds you how much fitter you should be, just like those 75% of your way through a route climbs always do. Maybe it's a matter of pacing. Knatts Valley, with it's ever so gradual downhill, kids you that you're fitter than you think (when the wind isn't spoiling your fun).
At St Mary Cray I deviated to get some more pacey bits in, so it's the Orpington bypass through to Sidcup, up to New Eltham then back to New Cross along the A20. Quick, slightly downhill, fun. A final blitz up Pepys Road for some gratuitous suffering and then I'm home. Approx 75 miles, ~1500m of climb at gentle cruising pace, 16.7mph. No wee stops.
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It was Tom.
We were saying how smart you Rapha chaps looked actually.
What happened with the slip? Gravel?
A bonk with 60k to go sounds like a horrible place to be. I had a sauna session on Friday which wiped me out and made my gentle ride from Euston to Surbitton hell.
Don't know if BMMF was in the TT. I assume there was a two up category (or whatever they're officially called) as some of the marshalls seemed to think me and Tom were taking part despite drafting each other.
If it was north of Bishops Stortford, then yes, going like absolute shit. Worst ride of the year. Must be ill. FAIL/kill myself/etc.
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^^Hurrah!
...hope on the bike.
Intentional?
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Tell us about your weekend ride
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Much of my Sunday was spent in West London, oiling woodwork, drinking Pepsi, and listening to the radio. Roast chicken sandwich for lunch.
I left for the middle in the afternoon, after the weather had brightened up (props to anyone with the motivation to head out in the morning).
The positive temperature shift resulted in a detour to Hampstead Heath, followed by the lovely descent through Camden to home. Lots of people were out coffee-ing, and rightly so, given the late sunny sky.
Top notch, all in all, and a gentle reminder that the slowish bits are just as enjoyable as the fastish bits.
Steak burrito for tea. Again.