I am sitting here in Spain, enjoying the comfort of a wide-backed, cushioned chair. It has taken me a couple of days to recover from the ride, but it is now time to wrap this sucker up. So to conclude: we left Liskeard and gingerly ambled towards our destination Land's End. 79 miles. Not too steep, but still a few death hills to negotiate.
We arrived in Land's End at about 4pm on Sunday 11th July, four days after departure. I had a delicious tea with clotted cream, jam and scones. Then we piled on the bus and turned off in Bodmin to watch Spain beat Holland, hopped back on the bus and arrived back in London at 3am.
Thank you to all those of you who donated. Your generosity contributed £6,988.00 to a grand total of over £125,000.
Below are some videos of the trip:
Day 1 - 40 miles outside Heathrow
Day 2 - New Forest
Day 3 - Tri-Guy
Day 4 - The End - Land's End
Some figures:
Total distance 321.66 miles
Total ascent: 21,000 feet
Total calories burnt 21,000
That's it for now. I hope you have enjoyed the blog and thank you once again.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Day 1, 2, 3 - The Death Hills
OK. We are in Liskeard, which is about 250 miles from London. Check it out on Google. This has been the most excruciating, painful, difficult thing I have ever done. Without a shadow of doubt. Words cannot explain the suffering - hill after hill, 12-17% steepness, for 3-4 miles at a stretch. In three days we have climbed 16,000 feet. That is the height of Mount Kilimanjaro. The psychological impact is a key factor. You reach what you think is the top, and then the road turns and it stretches on for another mile, steeper and steeper. To add insult to injury, we have had a steady headwind since we crossed over into Devon yesterday. This is like Chinese torture. It drip drips the energy away from your body and slows you down to a crawl.
Day 1
The first day we left Heathrow in the rain and made out way to the New Forest. It was a beautiful ride. A few hills, but nothing too bad. 82 miles and most of us made it in 4-5 hours.
Day 2
The next day was a different story. We started climbing hills almost immediately. One after the other. Boom, boom, boom. I was doing about 3 miles an hour at some points, standing up on the pedals, just to get the wheels turning. We did 79 miles that day and climbed almost 7,000 feet. Lost a good 40% of our 40 fellow cyclists. Just too hard. We reached Lyme Regis after about 8 hours on the bike. The fastest made it in 6 hrs. Some spent almost 12 hours. It was gruesome.
Day 3
Today was even worse. We left around 8am and got hit by the first hill, which was a death hill. 17% straight up for about 3 miles. There were about twenty of them. Then we reached Dartmoor. That was when things got surreal. It was blowing at 20 miles an hour and you had hill after hill. Barren landscape. Only sheep bleating and you feel like you are going to lose it. The key is not to quit on a hill, get off the bike and walk. Once you do it, you are doomed. You have to keep pushing on, one foot up, the other one down, like the pistons of a slow motion steam train. We reached the top of the moor, had a couple sugar sweets and kept going. The top of the moor is not flat. It has dips and hills. This goes on for about 30 miles. When we made it to Tavistok, a picturesque market town nestled in a valley, we had another 14 miles to go, but it was very hard going. By then, we had been on the bike for a total of 7 hours. Everything hurt. A lot. Knees creaked, tendons were violin-string tight. Hands throbbed from clutching the handlebars and squeezing the breaks. Neck muscles were locked in a permanent spasm. And the ass. The ass is in a different category of pain. If it had a way of expressing itself through voice, you would hear a scream that would put Munch's masterpiece to shame.
Tomorrow is the last day. 79 miles. Then it is over. Oh, and I forgot to mention: we are having a lot fun.
Day 1
The first day we left Heathrow in the rain and made out way to the New Forest. It was a beautiful ride. A few hills, but nothing too bad. 82 miles and most of us made it in 4-5 hours.
Day 2
The next day was a different story. We started climbing hills almost immediately. One after the other. Boom, boom, boom. I was doing about 3 miles an hour at some points, standing up on the pedals, just to get the wheels turning. We did 79 miles that day and climbed almost 7,000 feet. Lost a good 40% of our 40 fellow cyclists. Just too hard. We reached Lyme Regis after about 8 hours on the bike. The fastest made it in 6 hrs. Some spent almost 12 hours. It was gruesome.
Day 3
Today was even worse. We left around 8am and got hit by the first hill, which was a death hill. 17% straight up for about 3 miles. There were about twenty of them. Then we reached Dartmoor. That was when things got surreal. It was blowing at 20 miles an hour and you had hill after hill. Barren landscape. Only sheep bleating and you feel like you are going to lose it. The key is not to quit on a hill, get off the bike and walk. Once you do it, you are doomed. You have to keep pushing on, one foot up, the other one down, like the pistons of a slow motion steam train. We reached the top of the moor, had a couple sugar sweets and kept going. The top of the moor is not flat. It has dips and hills. This goes on for about 30 miles. When we made it to Tavistok, a picturesque market town nestled in a valley, we had another 14 miles to go, but it was very hard going. By then, we had been on the bike for a total of 7 hours. Everything hurt. A lot. Knees creaked, tendons were violin-string tight. Hands throbbed from clutching the handlebars and squeezing the breaks. Neck muscles were locked in a permanent spasm. And the ass. The ass is in a different category of pain. If it had a way of expressing itself through voice, you would hear a scream that would put Munch's masterpiece to shame.
Tomorrow is the last day. 79 miles. Then it is over. Oh, and I forgot to mention: we are having a lot fun.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Day 7 - 40 mile Bike ride
Tis the Sunday before the race and I have positive vibes coursing through my veins. I swallowed up 40 miles in 3 hours today, some 45 minutes less than the week before. I averaged 13 miles and hour instead of 11, despite a strong headwind pressing me backwards during half of the circuit at Richmond Park. The new gear has really helped. The saddle is working wonders on my nether regions and the very cool elbow bars are perfect for long uphill slogs. Even the lime green extra padding on the handle bars has made a big difference, cushioning the juddering from the bumpy roads.
The plan for the rest of the week? Rest, chow down bucket loads of pasta and make sure I don't forget any of my gear.
Attached is a video of the kind of training I will be doing.
The plan for the rest of the week? Rest, chow down bucket loads of pasta and make sure I don't forget any of my gear.
Attached is a video of the kind of training I will be doing.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Day 5 & 6 - Rest days
Took it easy after the big queezy. Gave the legs a rest. Recovered psychologically from the English defeat. Suffered some pointed barbs on Facebook from some of my Teutonic friends and engaged in some retail therapy down at the local bike store.
Changed my saddle for the latest in ass technology. Some nerd in Sweden with way too much time on his hands figured out that the thinness of the saddle does not cause the pain. Apparently the issue is the pressure points. You have a couple of nerves right around the ass bones and if the saddle is not properly fitted, then it's " A Thousand Years on a Horseback" by Major Bumsore. The bike store salesman ushers me over to the saddle-fitting section and confidently eases me onto a heat pad that calculates the width of my seat bones, "to the millimeter". He then fits me up with the thinnest saddle I have ever seen.
"Are you sure that is gonna be more comfortable than the one I have right now, which is pretty thin by the way," I ask him.
"A lot of research has gone into this saddle," the bike shop salesman replied, shoving the literature in my hands.
How could I argue with that? He must have been on his school debating team.
I also purchased some very cool bars that allow you to ease onto your elbows on long straight roads. Changed the black tape around the handle bars for some dashing lime green to match the colour of the bike frame. Added another bottle of water. Hooked up two mini-tanks of air that instantly pump up a flat tire. And lastly, succumbed to another pair of black lycra padded shorts as per the advice of my training coach, Rufus.
I am now fully kitted.
Enjoy the video from the day of the big ride.
Changed my saddle for the latest in ass technology. Some nerd in Sweden with way too much time on his hands figured out that the thinness of the saddle does not cause the pain. Apparently the issue is the pressure points. You have a couple of nerves right around the ass bones and if the saddle is not properly fitted, then it's " A Thousand Years on a Horseback" by Major Bumsore. The bike store salesman ushers me over to the saddle-fitting section and confidently eases me onto a heat pad that calculates the width of my seat bones, "to the millimeter". He then fits me up with the thinnest saddle I have ever seen.
"Are you sure that is gonna be more comfortable than the one I have right now, which is pretty thin by the way," I ask him.
"A lot of research has gone into this saddle," the bike shop salesman replied, shoving the literature in my hands.
How could I argue with that? He must have been on his school debating team.
I also purchased some very cool bars that allow you to ease onto your elbows on long straight roads. Changed the black tape around the handle bars for some dashing lime green to match the colour of the bike frame. Added another bottle of water. Hooked up two mini-tanks of air that instantly pump up a flat tire. And lastly, succumbed to another pair of black lycra padded shorts as per the advice of my training coach, Rufus.
I am now fully kitted.
Enjoy the video from the day of the big ride.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Day 4 - The 40 mile Ride
It adds up quickly. Cadogan Square to Richmond Park - 7.3 miles. Four times round Richmond Park at 6.9 miles per circuit - that's 27.6 miles. Then the slow, tired slog back home, that's another 7.3 miles. 41.2 miles.
I broke into the park from Sheen Lane and it was like slipping into a parallel world. With the heat shimmering over the long, tall brown grass and the deer nestling under the shades of the generous trees, one could have easily mistook SW19 for Africa. Due to the smooth roads - a rarity around here - the Richmond Park circuit is very popular with cyclist enthusiasts. The going is challenging, with plenty of hills to humble even the fittest riders. I was told by a fellow cyclist with gargantuan thighs that "20 minutes is fast and if you can't break 30 you are going too slow."
In all it took me 3hrs45mins to make it back home. I averaged 11 miles an hour. When I finally got my incredibly sore behind off the saddle and slithered onto my kitchen floor, I could not imagine that in two weeks I would have to do double what I had just done. Four days in a row.
So I did what any sane person would do: had a smoothie, showered and watched Germany thrash England 4-1.
I broke into the park from Sheen Lane and it was like slipping into a parallel world. With the heat shimmering over the long, tall brown grass and the deer nestling under the shades of the generous trees, one could have easily mistook SW19 for Africa. Due to the smooth roads - a rarity around here - the Richmond Park circuit is very popular with cyclist enthusiasts. The going is challenging, with plenty of hills to humble even the fittest riders. I was told by a fellow cyclist with gargantuan thighs that "20 minutes is fast and if you can't break 30 you are going too slow."
In all it took me 3hrs45mins to make it back home. I averaged 11 miles an hour. When I finally got my incredibly sore behind off the saddle and slithered onto my kitchen floor, I could not imagine that in two weeks I would have to do double what I had just done. Four days in a row.
So I did what any sane person would do: had a smoothie, showered and watched Germany thrash England 4-1.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Day 3 - Rest Day
Today my legs felt a little stiff, a little wobbly, a little in need of some TLC. So I met with some friends for lunch, worked surprisingly efficiently between 3 and 6 and then went out for dinner in Soho at Boca Di Lupo with some other friends. Polished off a Bellini, several glasses of tasty Californian white wine and after dinner a delicious J&B and Coke. Now that is what I call training.
Now lying here in bed, with a glass of Alka Seltzer by my side, I really feel that I am psychologically ready for this mammoth bike ride.
Confidence is a beautiful thing.
Now lying here in bed, with a glass of Alka Seltzer by my side, I really feel that I am psychologically ready for this mammoth bike ride.
Confidence is a beautiful thing.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Day 2
Tried out Hyde Park today instead of Battersea to step up the pace a little and cycle 15 miles. Slipped into the park at the top of Sloane Street and tucked into a line of cyclists streaming up towards the Serpentine Gallery. As I crossed the road over to Kensington Gardens, a cabbie waved me on, I hesitated, then he moved, so I stopped and because I have special cycling shoes that are clipped into the pedals I could not take them off in time and slowly, inexorably and embarrassingly tipped over right in the middle of the road. To add insult to injury a woman rode straight into me and landed on my head.
I dusted myself off and put in a solid training ride. Another glorious day in Blighty. Who says the weather sucks in England. Speaking of England: we made it into the round of 16!!! Amazing. Next we meet our old nemesis, Germany. It's going to be tough, but they can be beaten. If Serbia can do it, so can we.
I dusted myself off and put in a solid training ride. Another glorious day in Blighty. Who says the weather sucks in England. Speaking of England: we made it into the round of 16!!! Amazing. Next we meet our old nemesis, Germany. It's going to be tough, but they can be beaten. If Serbia can do it, so can we.
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