You’ll have to excuse the lack of pictures in the post below and the fact that it changes tense a few times. But as you’ll see if you're brave enough to plough through my mountain of drivel, this post covers multiple days, some of which was written at the time and some of which has been caught up later, and all of which seems to have one single theme running through it (rain).
Wednesday 28th December 2022.
Here we go then, we’ve not had any real stupidity for a couple of months so it’s about time I rectified that. And what better way to rectify things than with a bit of long distance winter cycling. The problem comes with the definition of long distance, and I suspect that my definition may be different to that of the everyday man in the street. I mean, what is a long way to go by bicycle? 20 Miles? To many people that's probably unimaginable, but in my book that's a running distance. It might be further than many people ever venture from home, but as far as I’m concerned it’s not even worth getting your bike dirty for. 50 Miles than? Well, we're getting closer now. That is worth getting your bike out for, but it’s still only 4 or 5 hours of easy riding. Granted we're now into the sort of distances that most people consider a long way to go in the car, but it’s not actually all that far is it? In fact, as far as I’m concerned we are not into long distances until you start to get above 100 miles. 200 miles in a single day is achievable if you're fit enough and in the right frame of mind, and grouping together multiple days of 100+ can take you quite a long way in a short time too. So we need to be going over 100 miles, and we need to make it worthwhile. And to that end I just happened to spy the Full Fat Festive 500 Audax, when I was casting around for something to fill my time between Christmas and the New Year. 500 Km with an Audax time limit of 35 Hours, yes that’ll do nicely, and it sounds like a bit more of a challenge than the original Rapha idea, which was to just cover 500 Km in the 8 days between Christmas and New year. 8 days or 35 hours? Sign me up! The only problem is I was running on the 27th and the cycling fun didn’t start until the 29th, that left me with a whole day with nothing to do. I suppose I could have just stayed at home and watched TV, or heaven forbid, joined the rest of the country in Costa, or wherever they go when I’m doing other stuff. Or, I could make better use of my time by getting out in the fresh air and cycling to the start (in Bristol). A quick search for cheap rooms threw up a Travelodge in Bristol for the 28th and 30th for less than the cost of a meal out, so that was that sorted. Home to Bristol on the 28th (80 miles). Full Fat Festive 500 Audax (Bristol, Cambridge, Northampton, Tewkesbury and back to Bristol) on the 29th and 30th (310 miles). Bristol to back home on the 31st (another 80 miles). How About that for a little post Christmas adventure then? I ran my little idea past ‘The Emma’, who in typical fashion just shook her head and rolled her eyes, and highlighted that my legs might be a little bit stiff on the 28th having run an Ultra Marathon the day before. I’d actually considered, and then instantly ignored this little possibility as a minor issue (I’m pretty sure that your legs are supposed to hurt most of the time) so she did little to discourage my brilliant idea. Having been married for something approaching a million years, I’ve learned that the shake of the head is as close as you get to approval, so I booked everything and wrote it on the calendar, which makes it official, and then sat back to await the glorious sunshine which was sure to accompany such an audacious midwinter adventure.
Ah, yes, about that glorious sunshine. It would appear that something got lost in my memo to the weather Gods. As, not only was ‘The Emmas’ prediction that my legs might be a bit stiff the morning after my running fun correct. But, additionally, when I dragged myself out of bed on the 28th it was not only lashing it down, but blowing a hooley too. Neither of which are a show stopper on their own, but when the wind’s going to be in your face all the way to Bristol and it’s jet propelling the rain in your face too, it’s not ideal.
‘The Emma’, being far more sensible than me, looked somewhat surprised when I came downstairs in my cycling kit, and said something along the lines of ‘are you nuts? I assumed you’d be taking the van instead’. A thought which hadn’t even crossed my mind, this was a cycling adventure not a driving one! As far as I was concerned, I’d just be getting wet! Suitably attired, with plastic bags on my feet (between socks and boots) in an attempt to at least stay warm if not dry, and washing up gloves under my normal cycling gloves, which are about the only thing I've ever found to keep your hands dry, I was on the road by 09:30, Bristol bound. Now, having waffled on for far too long about nothing, you're all going to be really disappointed, because there's not really much to say about my trip to Bristol. Except it was very wet and very windy, and for about 10 minutes of the 6 and a half hours it took me to slog my way though 80 miles into the wind, I wondered what the hell I was doing! Yes that’s right, it rained, I got really wet, and I slogged into the wind for far too long. But I had a brilliant time. I saw a grand total of 1 other cyclist (in Bristol), 3 runners and a couple of horse riders. I got a cheery wave from a lady pushing a wheelbarrow across a farmyard in the rain. I said hello to a couple of dog walkers, all of whom were as wet as I was. I ate a soggy sandwich in the rain in Hungerford and got my boots full of water riding through a flood between Marlborough and somewhere else, but I had a great time! There’s something special about taking on the weather and winning. Everyone’s tucked up at home, leaving the roads traffic free, and there’s a shared community of fellow suffering between the people that are out and about that you just don’t get on normal days. The lady with the wheelbarrow is a prime example. Would she have waived if it wasn’t raining and blowing a gale? I doubt it. But she did, and it made my day. Luckily the forecast for Thursday is looking better, so hopefully we’ll have at least a few dry miles, and if the wind can manage to be in the same direction as today for the majority of the day and then do a full reversal once I get to Cambridge then that would be great. I’ll not hold my breath though. And on that note I’m going to leave this here for now as the alarm’s set for 04:00 and I’ve got a big day ahead tomorrow. We’ll pick back up once I get back to Bristol (hopefully on Friday), or if it all goes wrong, then whenever!
Thursday 30th Dec 2022
Well, that was a ride of two halves if ever there was one, all liberally smothered in a large serving of rain and strong winds for good measure! An early alarm call, even by my standards (04:00) on Thursday morning, gave me plenty of time for a good breakfast and the 5 mile ride down from my salubrious accommodation to the start, ready for an 06:00 departure. By the time I arrived to collect my brevet card there was already a smattering of other hardy riders milling around chatting and sipping pre ride brews, whilst waiting for the time to tick down and I’d hazard a guess and say that by the time we departed, our ranks had grown to around 30, which I don’t think is a bad turn out for such a stupid undertaking! Bang on 6 we were off, making our way through the deserted streets of Bristol as we headed for open countryside and the first destination of the day (Farringdon). It wasn’t long before I’d had to stop and take off a couple of layers, as despite the early hour it was surprisingly warm, a decision that I was soon to regret. Less than 10 minutes after de-layering the rain started. Gentle spots to start with, but soon growing in crescendo to a good hard downpour! There was no way that I was stopping again so soon, so I pushed on, Jacket firmly zippered, waterproof gloves under outer gloves and feet, within my allegedly waterproof winter boots, firmly encased in plastic bags in an attempt to delay the ingress of water. An hour later and the rain was still falling steadily and I was starting to get really chilly. There was no other option but to stop again or face getting really cold, as the wet rain sapped my body heat, and another stop ensued to put back on all the clothes that I’d discarded earlier! Handily, by the time I got to Faringdon, the rain had finally abated and stayed away for the rest of the day, which was nice. However, the damage was already done and my now wet feet were certainly starting to suffer from the cold. Proof of passage receipt obtained, gloves wrung out, pockets restocked with treats for the next leg and push on, next stop Winslow. Helpfully, minutes later, the route went straight through the middle of Oxford, and in an unusual moment of clear thinking I realised that I’d be going right past the big sports shop on the outskirts. One short diversion later and I was sitting in the car park changing my socks for fresh, warm, dry versions. New plastic bags between socks and boots stopped the wet boots soaking my new toasty socks and within 10 minutes I was back on my way, happy as Larry, with nice warm toes again. Result!
The leg up to Winslow pretty much set the scene for the rest of the day. Flat, scenic countryside, with a strong tail wind pushing us along from behind. In fact, there were plenty of occasions over the next few hours where I was easily holding 20 MPH on the flat with barely any effort, an unusual situation, and one that was bound to come back to haunt me later when we finally made the turn at Cambridge and that helpful tailwind became a headwind!
No point in worrying about that yet though, so I did what any sensible person would do and made hay whilst the sun shone, or more accurately, made good time whilst the wind helped. A quick lunch stop for a sandwich in Winslow, and then with nearly 100 miles already covered push on for Cambridge. It’s 150 miles from Bristol to Cambridge, and the fact that I was making my way through town before 17:00, less than 11 hours after leaving Bristol is testimony to the strength of that tailwind, and just goes to show how far you can get in one day on your bike! Cambridge was thronged with tourists and post Christmas shoppers (you’d have thought that they would have had enough by now), so I wasn’t hanging around. Next stop St Ives via the guided busway and its fantastic cycle path. Traffic free, clean, well surfaced, well lit, safe, direct and fast, this is sustainable travel infrastructure at its best and rolling along those miles from Cambridge to St Ives in the dark with only the occasional bus running on the adjacent track for company, was some of the best miles of the whole route. If only it wasn’t dark I’d have been able to see the surrounding wetlands. Oh, well, that’s reason enough for another visit at some point in the future. With the night now well upon us and clear skies, the temperature had rapidly dropped from it’s not very high daytime starting point, and I took the time at St Ives to don a few more clothes ready for the final stretch of the day to my pre-booked overnight accommodation (Travelodge again) at Northampton. A cheeky Kebab en route, provided tea and kept the hunger pangs at bay (I’ve said before it’s a glamorous life this Audax lark, supermarket sandwiches, chocolate bars from 24 hour garages, biscuits for breakfast and whatever else you can find from convenience stores as you make your way around the country, all eaten at the roadside like some sort of high class man of the road). Despite the turn into wind I made good time to Northampton, arriving just after 22:30, with 208 miles under my belt (plus 5 to the start). I don’t think that’s a bad day's work by any measure, and having checked in, replaced all the batteries in my lights and GPS, and refilled my water bottles etc in preparation for another early start, I treated myself to a hot chocolate before bed and turned in for the night. See, it's a glamorous life I lead!
Friday 30th December 2022.
3 and a half hours after closing my eyes the alarm jolted me back awake again at 03:00! I’m pretty sure that most of the population have a lay in when they’re on holiday, not get up even earlier, but where would the fun be in that? A quick brew, some instant porridge, and just before 04:00 I was back on the road again, next stop Tweksbury, 63 miles away, most of which was into wind. Wind, which had helpfully picked up considerably overnight. Strangely, Friday's weather started off somewhat reminiscent of Thursday’s. Within the first half hour of setting off I’d had to stop to remove some clothes, and again, just as the previous day, just after 06:00 the cold, heavy rain started again. Having learned from yesterday's mistakes, this time I was soon stopped putting all those layers back on again before I had a chance to get too cold! Unlike Thursday, when the wind was on our backs, today the wind was throwing that cold rain straight in my face for the next couple of hours. Not pleasant! And that wind, coupled with the rain, and not helped by the fact that it was still dark, made for some pretty hard miles to start the day, but those were nothing compared with what was to come! The rain fell steadily, my legs gave all they could, and slowly the miles to Tewskbury decreased. A warm cheese and bacon pastry and a chocolate croissant from a handy shop, which materialised through the rain like a shining beacon just as it got light, provided sustenance to keep on pushing, and eventually, just before 10:00 Tewksbury hove into view. No time to stop though, there’s still 45 miles to go, and the wind was really going to come into play now. The leg between Tweksbury and Bristol was open, exposed, and directly into the full force of that wind. Which by now was doing its best to blow me to a complete halt. Hunched over the handlebars, pushing as hard as my tired legs could sustain, I struggled to maintain a 10 MPH average speed for the day's efforts. At times as I slogged down the A38 after Glocester it was as much as I could do to keep moving forward. With your head down trying to be more aerodynamic all you can see is the road directly ahead and whatever's in your peripheral vision off to the sides, no views, no sightseeing, just slog. And to make matters worse, right in my line of vision, with nothing else to look at, is my handlebar computer showing the time and speed. My incredibly slow moving speed stares me in the face the entire time, along with the time of day! It’s 12:00, I keep struggling on and when I look back again it’s still 12:00. Stop looking! I look away for as long as I can without crashing, and when I look back again because there’s no other option, it's 12:01! Arrrggghhhh. And now it’s raining again! I don’t know if I can do this! OK, let's get to 12:15 then I’ll have a quick break. 12:15 eventually comes. Ok, let's make it 12:30 and then I’ll stop! And so it goes on. And slowly, ever so slowly, the miles tick down. Eventually though, having slogged endlessly down the A38, peddling hard on the downhill sections to make any progress, and grinding almost to a halt on more than one occasion on the uphill sections into the face of that horrific wind, I reach the turn off. Turning left I’m greeted with instant calm, as the trees at the side of the country lane provide some shelter and the turn brings the wind onto my side. Bliss! With the extra shelter so my speed picks up slightly, and with it my mood, as I once again start to make what feels like progress. Another 40 minutes of puddle and pothole dodging, down country lanes which Sat Nav has turned from rural back roads to commuting short cuts, takes me to the edge of Bristol and on to the end of the day's adventure. And what an adventure it had been. Rolling to a halt back at the start, that clock which had plagued those earlier miles said it was approaching 15:30. 11 and a half hours to cover those 110 miles from my overnight stay back to the start. Contrasting that to the previous day, where with the wind on my back I covered 150 miles in just over 10 hours gives you some idea of how much difference the wind makes! But I can't complain. As the saying says, “You reap what you sow” and if it was easy, every one would be doing it, not a select bunch of individuals who are willing to push themselves to the limit of their endurance to find out if they have what it takes to continue. And continue into the face of adversity I had, Pushing on when it seemed impossible, crawling slowly onwards into the teeth of the wind when every bone in my tired body said, “what are we doing this for?”. And what was I doing it for? Well, I suppose the answer to that is, because I can and because someone took the time and made the effort to organise this stupidity for me to pitch myself against!
Saturday 31st December 2022
After an early night all that remained between me and home was the small matter of another 80 miles of cycling. I had a cunning plan though. After a good night's sleep, catching up on what I’d missed the previous nights, I’d treat myself to a leisurely breakfast at the hotel (if you can call a Travelodge that) and then pootle gently home, taking my time and enjoying the scenery. And then I woke up, discovered it was dark and raining and going to get wetter, and remembered that the only clothes I had with me were the cycling clothes I’d been wearing for the previous 3 days, my winter cycling boots which were still soaking wet, and a spare set of base layers that I’d been lounging around my hotel room in, and even I’m not brave enough to put the general public through the ritual of sharing a dining room with someone that’s been wet and dirty for 3 days and is just wearing skin tight Lycra pants, which sort of put pay to the idea of a leisurely breakfast. Plan B was called for then, which entailed getting dressed, eating a scabby ham sandwich and half a packet of chocolate digestives which I dragged from the depths of my saddle bag and getting on the road ASAP in the hope that I’d miss the worst of the rain. Yeah, like that’ll work. As such, I was on the road again just before 07:00.
Leaving in the rain, I’d togged up with my waterproof jacket and trousers, plus an extra base layer, and therefore was stopped within 20 minutes removing clothes again, because as soon as I got moving I was too hot!
20 minutes later, I was stopped again, taking my waterproof trousers off, because the rain had stopped and I was still too hot! Another 20 minutes went by and I was stopped again, putting my waterproof trousers back on again, because it was raining again. And so my morning slowly progressed. Rain stops, it’s too hot so I stop to take my trousers off. Rain starts again, so I stop again to put them back on. And repeat endlessly, until approaching the climb up Hackpen hill to the ridgeway and Marlborough I finally had enough, and when it started drizzling again thought “sod this it’ll stop again in a minute, just keep going” So I did, and you guessed it, as I crested the summit of Hackpen hill to start the long fast descent towards Marlborough, the heavens opened. But I was rolling now and it’ll stop again in a minute, in fact the sky even looks bluer over there, just keep going. 20 minutes later I’m skirting the edge of Marlborough and heading for Hungerford, and it’s still throwing it down, but I’m wet now so there’s no point stopping now. Long gone is the idea of a leisurely ride home, it’s just a case of head down and get on with it. By the time I reach Hungerford it’s still lashing it down. The rain falls in sheets, filling the gutters and cascading down the roads like rivers. The cars throw up walls of spray as they cruise sedately past, and the ankle deep puddles which litter the roads fill my boots with fresh cold water as I struggle though. Surprisingly though, I’m still having fun. I stop in Hungerford and shelter under the railway bridge to get some much needed calories on board and struggle to get my waterproof trousers back on over my soaking wet legs just for the extra warmth they offer, it’s cold now I’ve stopped, and if I get too cold I’ll struggle to warm up again! I might be cold and wet, but I’ve still got a smile on my face as I hide under the bridge with water dripping from every orifice eating an iced bun whilst watching the gridlocked car drivers trying to get through town, beeping their horns in frustration at their lack of progress and getting wound up that it’s taking them an extra 2 minutes to get to their destinations! Rather you than me, my friends! I’ll take wet and having fun, over crawling through traffic any day thank you. I imagine though that they are having the same conversation with their loved ones, sitting in their warm dry cars. “Look at that fool out there, stood in the rain smiling like an idiot”! Pushing on the rain continued to fall heavily for the remainder of my trip home. It dripped from my helmet in a constant stream it droplets, the water thrown from the road surface by passing cars continued to combine with the rain from above, engulfing me in clouds of water, and the puddles continued to fill my boots in a never ending stream of cold water, but I continued to smile and make the most of my day out. The rain’s just grim, it’s the wind like I experienced on Friday which is just plain nasty, and I’d rather have wet than that any day! Typically, a couple of miles from home the rain finally abated, and as I sat on the doorstep at home, pouring water from my boots and wringing out my soaked socks and gloves, it was almost as if it had never happened. You did your best though God of weather, and you didn’t beat me this time. You threw rain at me on multiple occasions, you threw wind at me on multiple days, and you threw the long dark night at me. But, on this occasion I won, and won in style too! 4 days and 487 miles in the middle of winter, including 500 Km (317 miles) in 32.5 hours. Yes, I’ll take that as a win, and what a way to finish off an epic year of cycling! If 2022 ended like that, then roll on 2023 is all I can say!
Wednesday 28th - Home to Bristol - 80 miles
Thursday 29th - Bristol to Northampton (via Cambridge and St Ives) - 207 miles (plus 5 miles from hotel to start) Friday 30th - Northampton to Bristol (Via Tewkesbury) - 110 miles (plus 5 miles from finish to hotel) Saturday 31st - Bristol to Home - 80 miles
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Right then, that’s that Christmas malarkey over and done with for another year, just another 363 days until we have to do it all over again. There’s still a million mince pies in the cupboard, I’ve hardly touched the Christmas beers (“The Emma” pointed out that there’s still a bottle left over from last year to get through yet, so I’m obviously slacking) and we’ve made the annual Boxing day pilgrimage down to see the family, and jolly nice it was too.
Having eaten my bodyweight in Christmas Ham, pickled onions and other assorted Christmassy goodness over the last few days, it’s time to start getting back to normal and burning off a few of those extra calories, and what better way to do so, than with a gentle 50 Km run across the South Downs in the form of the Winter Cross Ultra. I’ve done this run a couple of times now (2021, 2019) and I must say that it’s one of my favourites. It’s a great route with a good combination of hills and flatter bits, and despite some steep (and occasionally long) climbs it’s pretty much all runnable, leading to some fast times.
In previous year’s I’ve taken the van down the night before and had an easy start to the day, but having been out all day on Boxing day, that wasn’t going to work this year, necessitating an early start instead. Out of the house before any normal people were even awake. I was stood on the start line ready and raring to go well before 08:00, with plenty of other like minded insomniacs!
Well, I say plenty of others, the turnout wasn’t as good as previous years, a fact that was echoed by the organisers, who said that in general, participation across all running events is 50% down on pre Covid numbers. A statistic that seems to be borne out across Audax and the LDWA (walking events) as well. With numbers there still being well down. A situation which will hopefully rectify itself over the coming year. But probably goes to show that the Covid induced exercise / must spend more time outdoors boom, was a bit of a flash in the pan and just as traffic levels quickly returned to pre covid levels as soon as the lockdowns were released, it’s not taken everyone long to go back to their old ways. But before I totally digress, let's get back to the running. As soon as it was light enough to clearly see, we were released into the frosty wilds of the South Downs National Park. Out from the start, a quick left and right turn, a couple of hundred meters on the road and straight through the massive puddle that seems ever present at the end of the road to pick up the Meon Valley Trail for the first leg. The route we're following today is made up of 4 legs, with a return to the start between each leg, and this first leg is easy running and a good warm up for the legs in the early morning chill. Flat, fast and well drained, we follow the old railway line that is now a multi-use walking / cycling trail for a couple of miles before turning round to head back the way we came. With repeated out and backs being the feature of the day, it’s a good opportunity to suss out your position in the field and offer a bit of encouragement to those behind you as you spin round and see those still coming the other way. Surprisingly, I find myself towards the front, in about 9th place, possibly a bit fast for the mileage still to go, but after yesterday's rest day I’m feeling good so I push on. Back past the start and heading Eastwards, things soon start to get a bit more interesting as we begin the climb up to Old Winchester Hill, with its far reaching views back towards Meonstoke and across the surrounding countryside. The hilltop radio masts, just about visible on the other side of the valley, mark our next destination at the Sustainability Centre and give a good indication of the distance still to travel. Over the top of Old Winchester Hill with lungs burning and legs stinging from the effort, and a brief respite as we drop down the other side, before starting the climbing again to get to the turn around point. A long climb up a greasy, chalky, sunken track, takes us towards the high point, but not before the first place man comes bounding effortlessly down the hill that I’m still trying to reach the top of, a good 15 minutes in the lead and looking strong. Eventually though I reach the top and pick up the muddy trail towards our next turn point and the end of the East Bound leg. Reaching the turn I get confirmation that I’m holding my position and maintaining 6th place. That’s better than I was expecting and I spend the next 10 minutes as I make my way back down the hill offering encouragement to those still on the way up! Passing back through the start with 19 miles done I take the opportunity to refill my water and grab some nuts and a chocolate bar before starting the Westbound leg. I’ve been here before and I know what's still to come, so getting some calories and fluids on board is important if I’m to make it to the end. It’s better to spend 30 seconds now, eating and drinking, then lose 30 minutes later on when you've totally used up all your reserves or when dehydration induced cramp strikes! Down to the main road, cross carefully, taking care to avoid the fast moving traffic, pick up the track running alongside a couple fields and then the work really begins, as the road climbs inexorably upwards for the next mile or so, to pick the South Downs Way back up, at the top of Beacon Hill. Upwards ever upwards, getting steadily steeper towards the top, this is a brute of an ascent and I’m blowing hard and slowing. I pass and open up a gap on the man I’ve been chasing for the last few miles at the bottom of the hill, and then get caught and passed, by someone else with far stronger legs than mine, as I approach the top. Over the top and a brief downhill respite as we descend to the next turnaround at Lomer farm before turning and having to regain all the height we’ve just lost! Coming back the other way it’s clear that the field’s well spread out by now, with plenty of gaps between the runners still climbing slowly up Beacon Hill as we make our way steadily back down, the hardest part behind us, or so I think.
How wrong could I be though!
Previously the routes followed the South Downs Way further, meaning the descent back down Beacon Hill is the end. Not this year though. There’s still 10Km to go and having passed through the start again there’s one final leg, Southbound, back on the Meon Valley Trail. Those, flat, fast, easy miles of leg one are long gone, and whilst the trails still flat, it’s now a mental hell as the dead straight, pan flat, ex railway line stretches unceasingly in front of me. Step after step, for what seems like hour after hour and mile after mile I trudge on. The spring in my step long gone, head down, glancing up at regular intervals to be greeted by the same sight. An endless tunnel of overhanging trees, with the path disappearing straight off into the distance, the end never getting closer. Mile 26, mile 27, surely the turnaround must be coming soon, but no, it never comes. Until eventually, as I wonder how much longer I can keep this up and my mind tries relentlessly to make me stop, I reach the final checkpoint. The end’s in reach now, and I turn to start retracing my steps back along that interminable track. Heading this way isn't so bad, and I manage to shake the dark thoughts and keep pushing. There’s runners coming the other way to acknowledge and encourage and I try to keep my head up and keep pushing on. Finally though, 4 hours and 36 minutes, and just shy of 31 miles after setting off, I’m back at the start, where a warm welcome awaits. Another marathon ticked off, my 19th this year and without doubt a hard one. Those final 10Km along that ex railway line nearly did for me, and it took a massive mental effort to keep moving when every bone in my body and brain cell was saying stop. That’s what it’s all about though. Taking yourself out of your comfort zone and seeing what you're actually capable of when the chips are down and your mind says stop! If you can override that desire to stop then maybe the world's your oyster and anything’s possible. There’s only one way to find out though and that’s going to involve a lot more running and cycling miles! Merry Christmas one and all. Here we are again, it really doesn't seem like 2 minutes ago that we were sitting down to Christmas dinner last year, but there you go, I guess that's all part of getting older and leading a full and fulfilling life.
Whilst Christmas in its current form is worthy of celebration in itself, (although I'm not a fan of the over commercialisation, greed, and insistence on buying each other a load of old tat that you don't want or need) it's not what we've always celebrated at this time of year. In fact, even before the Church got involved and allocated the date to the birth of Christ, we were busy making merry and celebrating at this time of year. But why were we busy making merry in the middle of winter? Well, apart from the obvious. That it's dark early and there's not much else to do. We're actually celebrating the fact that things are getting better from here on in! Yes, that's right, were over the hump and from here on in the days are getting longer, the evenings are getting lighter and before we know it, we'll all be back in shorts and t shirts, spending the evenings on the allotment and playing out. Wednesday, marked the Winter solstice and thus the shortest day, so whilst traditionally the worst of the winter is still to come, there's definitely something to start looking forward too, and that's exactly what I'll be using the remaining dark winter days for. There's seed catalogues to pour over, whilst I decide what delicacies I'm going to grow on the allotment next year. There's running and cycling adventures to dream up and plan, even if they never see the light of day or come to fruition. A couple of hours dreaming and looking at maps is never wasted time. And there's future projects to plan. In fact, the first part of next years calendar is already starting to fill up with running and cycling event's, and there's still lots of other's that I'm undecided about. As always, the problem tends to be fitting in all the things that I want to do, not finding things to fill the time with, which is a nice position to be in. At the end of the day, we need to make the most of every day and opportunity, because you never know what's around the next corner. I can't imagine that there are many people that spend their final days saying "I wish I'd done less with my life" but I'd wager that there's plenty that say the opposite! I often sit in the quieter moments and wonder where the times gone, or think that I haven't done much today / this week / this year, and then I glance back though this blog and realise that that's not quite true. I only ever write about the interesting things (or maybe that should be, the things that I find interesting, you can be the judge of whether I'm right or not) but I always seem to have something to write about so I guess that I must be doing something to fill my days. To that end, I noticed at the start of the month that I was approaching a bit of a milestone on the running front. I may have mentioned in one of my posts earlier in the month that I put in a couple of extra runs to work and back, to rack up a few extra miles, and surprisingly that milestone arrived today, more through chance than any real planning, when I passed through 2000 miles of running for the year. That's the highest accumulated mileage that I've ever managed, and there's still a few days of the year to go yet. In fact, todays gentle 10 mile run (well, I needed to build up an appetite for my Christmas dinner) took me to 2009 miles, which by my shoddy maths comes in at an average of 5 and 1/2 miles per day! (and I spend far more time cycling than running). I don't think that that's a bad effort, in fact I'm pretty pleased with that. It's not always been easy. We've had too hot, too cold, too windy, to wet and too dry. But at the same time there's been some marvellous runs in amongst the day to day training and slogs to work and back. There's been some successes and failures too! But either way, the running's done for today, and having built up an appetite, I'm going to enjoy my Christmas dinner with "The Emma" (steak and chips in case your interested), I'm going to light the fire and then I'm going to sit on the sofa, with a well deserved glass of beer, and reflect on those 2000 miles whilst dreaming of next years adventures. Happy Christmas every one! A bit of extra added bonus content this week in the form of 2 blog entries in as many days. Having been away Friday night there's a few pictures from Saturdays return journey that are worth sharing, but the weathers made for some interesting running through the week too, so there's a few pictures from then that are also worth a look. So, without further ado, lets just start with Saturdays return home from my overnight and then we'll go from there. Saturday dawned, or it would have, if dawn had actually happened when I got on the road, cold and clear. Well wrapped up against the cold, a heavy frost coated the world, and the early hour left the roads deserted as I left the warmth of my hotel room and headed for home. Progressing sedately through the early morning chill, I didn't have long to wait until the first signs of day started to turn the colour of the Eastern sky from black, through pink and on to a multitude of beautiful pastel colours as day finally broke. There's no doubt that winter days can be some of the most beautiful and Saturday morning more than lived up to that! With no rush to get home, I didn't push too hard, just working hard enough to keep the cold away from my bones, whilst enjoying the freedom that pedalling your bike through the countryside brings. Through Calne, before the early shoppers were even out of bed, a brief stop for porridge and a brew from my flasks at Marlborough, where the energetic park runners were just packing up, and a few cold miles alongside the River Kennet on my way to Hungerford, where the sun broke through the clouds and added its warming rays to the day. A few icy patches on the road between Hungerford and Kingsclere woke me up from my day dreaming and made me pay attention to the road ahead, a clumsy fall at the stage wouldn't have been welcome. A short stop for a sandwich, sat quietly in the churchyard at Kingsclere and then the final few miles home along familiar roads. I'd not been far (just over 70 miles), and I was home again by 13:00, in plenty of time for a few odd jobs and tea with "The Emma", but I'd been out on a winter adventure none the less. The cold wind had stung my face, my fingers and toes had been numb with the cold, but by gosh it was worth it for some of the sights and landscapes those few short hours had provided! Up early on Sunday morning, I was a little disappointed to find another cold and clear dawn. Disappointed you'll understand because I'd cancelled my South Downs Way plans due to the forecast of rain, and at 06:00 it looked pretty dry to me! Oh, well, I'll have a bit of breakfast and a bit of a run and them make the most of the dry weather to get the shoe rack I made months ago outside for a sanding ready for painting (about time too says "The Emma"). Or maybe not, as halfway round my run the skies clouded over and within 10 minutes the hail started coming down, leaving the paths slippery and my fingers cold (again). In fact by the time I got back home the hail had turned to rain and that's how it's stayed all day. I'll grant you the temperature has gone up a bit, but it's still a bit nippy and it's not stopped raining all day. I'll concede that fact that the shoe rack's still no closer to paint that it was in September, but I'm feeling pretty smug as I sit here warm and cosy writing this and not stood on top of the South Downs, wet, cold and tired, with another 2 nights in a hammock to contend with. I mean what sort of a lunatic even considers that idea! I suppose if I'm going to be at home I might as well make good use of the time, and to that end I've ticked off a few more odd jobs. Having eaten the last of the home made marmalade for breakfast, I've made some more. Nothing special, just pre cooked tinned fruit, but it's still a million times better than the shop bought stuff. The worst thing about making marmalade is boiling the oranges for what always seems like weeks to get them softened, so if I can miss out that step then that's a plus in my book. Whilst I was busy making marmalade, "The Emma" was digging in the back of the cupboard looking for something and amongst other treasure unearthed a couple of Kilner jars filled with various spirits and allotment fruits, amongst which was this little treasure. The label says it's White Rum, a bit of Sugar and allotment Raspberries, but more interestingly says I made it in 2016. I'm guessing from the colour of the fruit that any flavour and goodness that those raspberries contained has now well and truly migrated to the Rum, so "The Emma" found a spare bottle and I've bottled it up. Sat at home by the fire with a glass of that over the Christmas period will hopefully be a right little treat. And of course there's always just a little bit too much to fit in the bottle. Cheers! Ahhh, before I go, I've remembered what I was supposed to be talking about now. Chilly running! You might have noticed, and if you haven't I've been rabbiting on about it for the last 2 weeks, but it's been a bit chilly for the last few days. As I've already said though, chilly days make for some stunning views, but how about this winter wonderland from my runs to work and back this week. I'll think you'll all agree that that's worth getting cold for! But not everyone does!
Everyone at work thinks that I'm mad to even consider going outside, and I'm either going to freeze to death whilst running, or that the frost will cause the roads to turn into slippery lava and my bikes going to melt, whilst I fall into the abyss and get eaten by a Yeti! Luckily enough, neither has happened yet. But, whilst I'll continue to sing the praises of the frost glinting back in the light of my headtorch, like a million diamonds scattered across the countryside, the owls and deer watching from the undergrowth as I pass silently past, the sky slowly lightening and silhouetting the bare trees against the coming dawn, and the sheer joy of getting to work refreshed and invigorated. They'll continue to drive, having scraped the frost from their cars for the ten minute commute, got stressed out by the queues and other motorists, and spent the first hour of each day moaning that they've had to park 100 meters from the office. Each to their own I suppose, but I'll take the Yeti's and the lava every day thankyou! Well, this isn’t the start to my Christmas leave that I had planned. What I had actually planned was a cheeky wee attempt at a mid winter assault on the South Downs Way. 100 miles of walking fun, with a bit of camping thrown in for good measure. Instead, I’m safely ensconced in a Travelodge, gently stewing in an overheated room with a big truck sat outside the window with it’s engine running! So, why may you ask, am I not on the South Downs? Well, it’s like this. Have you been outside? It’s bloody freezing! No, that's not the real reason, the real reason is what's supposedly coming our way on Sunday. I’ve been watching the weather all week, in fact I’ve been out in it a few times. A bit of cold’s not normally enough to stop me, and in fact it hasn’t stopped me this time either. What’s actually stopped me, is the heavy band of rain that’s heading our way for Sunday and Monday and the fact that the cold spell is likely to have played havoc with water resupply options. In fact my winter South Downs Way attempt seems to have been doomed from the start. Having had this one in the back of my mind for a while, I’d planned on getting the train down to Eastbourne straight from work on Friday and walking back towards Winchester over a few days. The plan being to be home again in plenty of time for Christmas. And then I discovered that there aren’t any trains on Friday due to strike action (I rarely travel by train, but that’s twice in the last couple of months my plans have been scuppered by the unions). Luckily, having discovered this inconvenience a couple of weeks ago, ‘The lovely Emma’ offered to drop me off in Winchester instead, so I was back in the game, just heading the wrong way! And then it got a bit chilly! That’s fine though, I’ve woken up covered in frost on more than one occasion before, so I dug out an extra pair of socks and an extra hat and was all set to go. And then I saw the weather forecast for Sunday and Monday, and that coupled with the fact that all the taps and water resupply points were likely to be frozen solid, sort of swung it, from ‘what a brilliant adventure’ to ‘what a stupid idea’. So, Thursday night, after having a chat with ‘The Emma’ who said, ‘That’s the most stupid idea you've ever had and I’d be happier if you didn’t go’, I was at a loose end for the weekend. I suppose I could have just done what most normal people would have done and stayed at home, watched TV and ate Hob Nobs, but where’s the fun in that? So Instead, I had a quick look on the internet and found a cheap hotel room for Friday night, which just happened to be 70 miles away from home, put the walking stuff back in the loft, got my cycling kit back out and came up with plan B. A cheeky overnight on the bike, complete with toasty warm hotel room, and back home again before the rain arrives, a fine case of making the most of a bad hand if ever I’ve seen one! So that my friends is why I’m sat here now, in my too hot hotel room, in just my thermals, because they’re all the spare clothes I’ve got with me (is that too much information?) and not on the South Downs Way, swinging gently in my Hammock. It has however been a brilliant day out. A couple of hours at work this morning, wrapping up the loose ends before I finish for Christmas, gave the world a few hours to warm up to a more manageable temperature. But, with the sun beaming down from a cloudless blue sky just about managing to melt some of the frost which has been beautifying the world for the last few days, I was on my way as soon as I possibly could. With 2 thermal tops, a cycling jersey and a thick jacket, plus an extra pair of running tights over my cycling trousers, a neck warmer, a hat, some wrist warmers, thick socks and thick gloves, I was fully prepared for whatever winter has been throwing our way. In fact, once the sun started to do it’s magic I had to lose a layer, although as the day wore on and the sun started to wain I was glad to pop it back on again, and I’ll happily admit that it’s been pretty cold at times this afternoon. With the heavy frost still coating the verges and surrounding countryside, the sun low in the sky, and the quiet stillness that only a cold, wind free, winters day brings, it’s been a beautiful afternoon. Heading East, with the sun on my face, the Kites and Buzzards soaring majestically, Crows, starkly black against the blue winters sky, picking through the roadside vegetation in search of a meal. Squirrels out searching for their long buried nuts in the wooded lanes scurrying around. Red breasted Robins providing a splash of colour against the browns of winter, and most sensible people hiding at home leaving the roads quiet, it’s been a magical afternoon out.
A flask of hot noodles washed down with a flask of tea sat on a handy roadside log in the afternoon sun whilst watching the world go by for a few minutes, a couple of ‘The Emma’s’ home made biscuits for an afternoon snack whilst admiring the snowy landscape, and a warm sausage roll from a handy garage a few miles from the days destination as the sun sank below the horizon and the temperature really dropped, kept the hunger pangs at bay. I’ll admit to frozen toes, chilled fingers, tiptoeing along icy roads in fear of coming a cropper, but does it get any better than a winter adventure? I think not! Oh, and I get to do it all again tomorrow morning, when I head back home! I've only got one thing to say this week and that's Brrrrrr! It's certainly a bit on the fresh side, and whilst that doesn't normally curtail my fun, it's been a quiet weekend here.
The main event this weekend has been a trip down to Cardiff to see "The Boy" for a bit of a pre Christmas get together, which made a nice change. Obviously, ever keen to take advantage of any trip out I packed the bike, planning for a quick jaunt around a bit of Wiltshire on the way back home. Peering out of the van window on Sunday morning, after a cosy night, to be greeted by falling snow, sort of curtailed that plan though. I'm brave, but not that brave, and I couldn't see much point in risking a fall just for the sake of a few miles, so slunk back home for a brew and some toast instead. I did venture up the allotment for a couple of hours in the afternoon to spread the latest delivery of manure and do a bit of tidying up, but that's been about the sum of my weekend. Don't worry though, I've got big plans for my Christmas holidays so watch this space, as hopefully I'll have some chilly adventures to report in the coming weeks!
Here we are again, the start of December and the first 5 windows on my advent calendar are already open! The end of another year is fast approaching, but there’s still lots of things in the pipeline before we get there.
That’s not going to help with subject matter for this week’s blog though, and unusually I’m a bit stuck for words. It’s not that I’ve been sat around doing nothing, it’s just that what I have been getting up too, isn’t very interesting. Friday afternoon I replaced the final bits of front suspension on “The Emmas” Peugeot that I hadn’t done the other week. Like most things, replacing the worst bits just highlighted things further down the line that were worn, so whilst my previous efforts made a vast improvement, it still wasn’t perfect. New Anti-Roll Bar bushes and Shock Strut upper mounts have finally seen an end to the creaks and groans that would be expected of an 18-year-old car though, and it now sounds better than it ever has. Helpfully, she waited until I’d finished, got changed and put all the tools away, before telling me that the horn’s stopped working! I suspect that’s an electrical issue, and that can certainly wait until it warms up a bit before I start fiddling with it!
There’s not much to say on the running front either. I’ve been running obviously, but it’s been the dull and boring sort (road running) in an effort to get as many miles in over the next few weeks as possible, and the easiest way to do that is up the number of days I run to work.
Covering 10 miles each way, it’s easy to rack up some good numbers. Although, dragging myself out of bed before 05:00, to be out of the door before 06:00, isn’t much fun, and neither is the run home after a full day’s work. It serves a purpose though, which will become clear as we approach the end of the year, and it’s all miles in my legs which will pay dividends in the future, so I'm not complaining!
The most interesting bit of news from the weekend was the The South Of Bucks Winter Warmer Audax, 200km of chilly bicycling fun from Beaconsfield, down to Alton and back, via the outskirts of Basingstoke and the Oxford services on the M40. Even that didn’t go quite to plan though!
Having pottered around with “The Emma’s” car Friday afternoon, it was dark before I loaded my bike into the van, sorted out my life and headed up to Beaconsfield ready for a relaxing evening and an early start on Saturday morning. The drive up was fine, with my late departure meaning I missed the worst of the rush hour traffic, and by 21:00 I’d stopped at the chippy for some tea and was just settling down with a pre bed beer when I thought I’d better check that my saddlebag was good to go for the morning. And that’s when it dawned on me. My saddlebag, complete with puncture repair kit, tools, inner tubes, pump, spare batteries, first aid kit, and all the other necessities that I lug around with me, but rarely use, wasn’t where it normally is, tucked safely away behind my bike, it was on the side in the garage, 60 odd miles away! That’ll teach me for packing in the dark and not being better organised. What now? Well, I had a couple of choices.
As I sat there sipping my beer, with the van heating blowing warmly on my toes, the start of another idea started to creep into my mind. Thinking about it, it’s less than 10 miles to Maidenhead which is right on the route, and Maidenhead’s got a Halfords, which opens at 08:00. That’s a more realistic destination. Whatever happens, it’s only ever going to be a 5-mile walk, whether that’s back to the van or on to Maidenhead where I can stop off and get a cheap puncture repair kit and pump. Granted I don’t really want another cheap pump, but puncture repair kits are always handy, and it might get me out of a pickle! Having slept on the idea, I still wasn’t convinced that option b, wasn’t the best idea, but eventually managed to drag myself from my nice warm bed and got myself to the start in plenty of time. By the time I’d collected my Brevet card, had a quick chat with the lovely ladies manning the control, and said hello to a few other cyclists and familiar faces, all thoughts of not starting had been firmly banished, and I was raring to go! It might have been dark, it might have been cold, and there might be a vicious headwind to contend with later in the day. But I’m an adventurous type, not the stay at home, chicken out at every opportunity type. Not start? like that was ever really an option!
By 08:00 we were on our way, first stop Winnersh for an info control, or in my case, first stop Maidenhead!
As I’d hoped, the miles to Maidenhead passed without fanfare and, as the rest of the pack went straight on, I diverted off route to find Halfords and my saviour. Not for the first time they came up with the goods too! Halfords get a hard time, but they’ve saved my bacon before, (a new wheel at Carlisle during my LEJOG and a new tyre at Newbury when fully laden with camping stuff) so in my opinion that’s unfair. Yes, they may not offer the best product line, or be the most knowledgeable, but for customer service, value for money and getting you out of the brown sticky stuff, they’re great in my opinion! Anyway, 10 minutes and £12 later, I’ve got a cheap pump taped to my top tube and a puncture repair kit, complete with tyre levers, taped under the saddle and I’m back in the game. Thank you Halfords at Maidenhead! Back on the road, there’s not much to add for the next few miles. Not only have I done this ride a couple of times before (2019, 2020, 2021) but it’s not the most interesting route either. As is usual for this time of year, the route tends to stick to fairly major roads. The advantage of which is that they will normally be rideable, no matter what the weather decides to do, but on the flip side, tend to be fast, have rough, worn, potholed surfaces, and encourage getting your head down and just pushing on! So that’s just what I did. Through Winnersh and on to Alton, which was dispatched without fanfare, and onwards towards Basingstoke. In fact, before 12:00 I was on the outskirts of Basingstoke and debating what to do. Should I divert into home to pick up my saddle bag, or just push on with my new puncture repair kit and hope I didn’t have any other problems? Sense soon won, and passing within a couple of miles of home I once again diverted off route and swung in to collect my bag and an extra pair of gloves (it really was surprisingly cold). I didn’t linger at home, grabbing my bit’s, said hello and goodbye again to “The Emma”, grabbed a cold crumpet from the cupboard on my way past (surprisingly disappointing) and pushed on again. From home it didn’t take long to make my way up to Pangbourne for the next control, where a cashpoint receipt provided proof of passage and then the long slog of a climb up Whitchurch hill to test the legs and get the heart rate up again! The next leg always seems a bit of a slog and today was no different. The wind, which as forecast, had picked up was blowing straight into my face, coupled with the rolling terrain and steadily increasing tiredness in my legs, I had a few moments of “what am I doing here” as the afternoon progressed. Feeling sorry for myself wasn’t going to get me to the end though, and through gritted teeth I slogged on, eventually rolling into the garage forecourt at the Oxford motorway services to join a couple of other Audaxers who were busily enjoying the now familiar delights of service station sandwiches and lukewarm pasties. Fed, watered and refreshed after a brief stop, things got easier from here on. The route flattens out and that wind was no longer in my face. Picking up the A40 which is now almost deserted, with most of the traffic diverted onto the motorway, it was a case of head down, get comfy on the Areo bars and tap out the remaining miles as darkness gradually descended. A brief pause in Marlow to get my head torch out and note down the answer to the info control, and then it’s only 8 miles back to the start. But not before the brutally steep sting in the tail at Bourne End and the climb up Kiln Lane. Smallest gear, legs spinning, lungs bursting, out of the saddle on the worst bits. Is that another rider ahead in the dark? Keep climbing, chasing the red taillight ahead. Onwards, ever upwards, one more ramp and I’ve caught them, dismounted and steadily pushing uphill, a brief greeting between ragged breaths and I slowly inch past, on my way up that interminable climb. Eventually though the top comes, and I gather my breath and push out the last couple of miles. Finally coming to a rest, back where I started from, nearly ten hours previously. Check back in with the lovely welcoming committee and get my brevet card stamped and then back to the van, where with cold fingers and toes it’s time for a brew and warm up. The feeling slowly returns to my toes as I put dry socks on and sit with my toes in front of the heater, whilst wrapping my hands round a hot brew and reflect on the days adventure. It may have been cold at times, it may have been a struggle into the wind at times, the roads may have been busier than I would have liked at times, but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, and to think, I even considered not starting this morning. Idiot! Oh, and I didn’t need that puncture repair kit or any of the other stuff I picked up on the way past either. You can guarantee that if I hadn’t got one, I’d have needed it though!
Just before I go, what's this all about. I noticed these on my way past as I cycled home from work on Friday.
Now I know it's warmer down here in the tropical South. But Lambs in December, what's that all about?
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Paul PerrattOld enough to know better, young enough to still feel invincible, stupid enough to keep on trying the same thing again and again. Cyclist, Gardener, Runner, Hiker, Cook, Woodworker, Engineer, Jack of all trades and master of none, Anti social old git and all round miserable bugger. Archives
March 2024
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