Having enjoyed a near uninterrupted run of being able to train whenever I liked, Monday 22nd February brought an abrupt end to all that fun with a 5:45 am alarm call to see me at my desk a couple of minutes later. Formula One had lurched back into life with the opening test of 2016 and I was about to enjoy perhaps the busiest few hours work of the year as an F1 Picture Editor.
Thirteen or so hours later and I was able to let go of the mouse and consider the day’s exercise. The usual spin class had already commenced so I headed out for an easy paced run. The left hip grumbled for a mile or two, thereafter it was a mostly trouble free affair, albeit with a lengthy stop at the Meres for a pit stop and a natter with GRC runners who had just finished their run.
At eight and a bit miles I had the option of turning right to head straight home or carry on forwards for a two mile loop to conclude. The legs feeling good I opted for the latter. All felt good until I reached the same turning on my return when I just felt the outside of my right calf tighten. It grumbled for the final half mile, then on finishing tightened significantly all over the calf and high up in the hamstring. It was essentially a repeat of what first occurred at the Chester Marathon in last October and again on two or three occasions subsequently.
This put running out of the equation for a couple of days at least, although the continuing F1 test meant this was not too much of an issue. I’d always planned weeks 9 and 10 to be fairly minimal on the running front because of work and three races on consecutive weekends. On the Tuesday I was able, during quiet moments at the test, to put in two hours on the home elliptical trainer. The calf felt fine on the trainer, as it always seems to. The stop-start nature of putting in 10-20 minute efforts around work coming in made the session quite tiring, but it was better for the body and mind than dong nothing at all.
Wednesday turned out to be another really busy day at the Circuit de Catalunya so it turned out to be an enforced rest day. Thursday I was able to do an hour in the trainer during the morning in two chunks and I was just about able to finish work in time to head to the club for the marathon paced session I was due to take. As it turned out only two other runners turned up to run, my right calf had already begun to ache a fair but by the time we reached the club. Coming down the first hill of the run the calf began to tighten a lot and I decided to cut the run short when we ran past our house.
Disappointed to have only covered five miles I headed straight onto the elliptical trainer for quite a charged hour long session, pulling higher RPM on higher resistance levels than I had done previously on the relatively new machine. The calf ached a bit but as with previous occasions, it can’t be a pull or a tear as there is no real searing discomfort.
On Friday morning there was no test but I was in charge of looking after the family so I put in another fairly high intensity session on the elliptical trainer, this time for 90 minutes. The right calf was again a bit achy, but otherwise I felt fairly strong.
Saturday was the National Cross Country Championships which is covered in another piece on this website. Suffice to say that the effort had me fairly whacked on Saturday evening and I had no problems getting to sleep hopefully ready for Sunday morning’s bike ride.
Heading to Witham Wheelers for the eighth Reliability Ride of 2016 I could sense immediately that the body was still quite fatigued from Saturday’s race. The last group to set off was a Group 3, 4, and 5 combination. I put in a stint at the front from the off and I could feel that while I was okay on the flat stuff, the first hint of an incline and I was in trouble. This is the total opposite of what is normally the case when I am one of the stronger riders on the hills and struggle to keep up on the flat stuff.
I made it to Melton Mowbray okay but I was dropped on a climb out of Melton. I was able to get back onto the group but 20 minutes or so later there was the longest climb of the ride and I was out of the back door within seconds. There was simply nothing in the legs for me to be able to keep up with what was really quite a modest pace. I dug deep and was able to keep the group sufficiently close to be able to catch them back up once the climb’s summit had been passed.
I think the fact I was able to regroup when it seemed that all hope was lost helped me mentally for much of the rest of the ride as I felt more comfortable thereafter. A long fairly flat section certainly helped matters, as did two small packs of Haribo consumed during a brief stop. The group worked well together riding in and off as we battled with a headwind. It was only at the short sharp hill at Skillington did I once again lose contact with the group, although I was once more able to dig deep on the flat bit after the hill and catch up with the group. We then had a bit of fun on the closing section ramping up the pace and having a mini sprint finish which I opted not to take part in as there seemed little point.
This all meant that the 62 miles was covered in 19 mph, which was pleasing considering that at 25 miles I thought there was no way I was going to be able to finish the ride. I rode home after a quick hot cross bun break, and to my surprise was able to muster a 5k brick run. The right calf was aching a bit but bearable, the pace was very similar to the week before, where the legs felt fresh in the final mile to run 6:30 or so.
A bit of a frustrating week, but it was always going to be a compromise with the F1 test to be covered and if there was a week to suffer an injury that minimised running, then it was a good week to have. It is likely to be more of the same in week 9 with a four day F1 test, a calf which is still sub-par, and a race on the Saturday to consider and taper for.
Week seven of London Marathon training began with the now customary early morning hour on the elliptical trainer. There was a bit of stiffness in the legs, otherwise all felt good. That evening there was another gym session planned where I would do a progressive run on the treadmill followed by a spin session.
The best laid plans were nearly scuppered by Grantham’s infamous traffic woes made worse by no less than three sets of roadworks taking place in the town on the same day. I got to the gym late so had to condense the 50 minute run into something less than 30 minutes. This meant it was a short, sharp, intense session, where I ramped the pace up to 7 mph to a lung busting 12 mph by the end. I didn’t take a note of the splits at the time, but when I got home I noted I ran the third mile in 5:41, then the fourth mile in 5:04, which is pretty much as quick as I’ve ever run a mile (I did run 4:52 at a mile race way back in 2000, I have a timed 5:08 or so on the track from three years ago).
Unaware that I’d pushed the body pretty hard I went into the spinning session expecting another strong session. I noticed straight away during the warm up that the going was harder than usual and so it was that the 40 minute session was a toil from beginning to end, sweating loads, dehydrated, and unable to generate any real lasting power in the legs. It was only the finale track of The Killers Mr Brightside that spurred me on to a semi respectable 3.9 w/kg average.
Week 7 coincided with school half term so there were to be compromises with the usual training schedule. Tuesday saw no elliptical trainer session, instead a single ten mile run in the evening with eight miles at marathon heart rate. For the opening warm up miles it looked impossible to follow a heart rate as the belt was playing up and giving wholly fictitious readings. Thankfully a liberal coating of saliva appeared to cure the problem.
The tired legs didn’t want to know for the first couple of miles as I forced them to a 6:02 then 5:59 mile. Thankfully they began to wake up and the remainder of the run was a more pleasant affair, with the quickest mile the last at 5:47 and the slowest 6:03. I contemplated running some extra miles but having completed 10 miles next to my house the temptation to stop was too great and I called it a day as planned.
Wednesday was a day out with the family and so was a welcome day’s rest from exercise. Thursday morning saw an easy hour on the elliptical trainer where the calves were tired but otherwise I felt fine. The evening run was with GRC and it was a ten mile circuit with eight miles at around 7:30 pace. We had a couple of new runners to join the ranks and it was a highly satisfying group run in crisp cold, conditions. At it’s conclusion I put in a couple of extra miles to make it 13.5 for the day.
Friday was just an hour on the elliptical trainer and it was a good hour, feeling stronger than I’ve done on the new trainer with more ‘km’ covered as a result. Saturday morning saw a break from parkrun as I wanted to recce the Newton’s Fraction half marathon course in preparation for the forthcoming race. The opening five miles were just to take me to the Meres where the race begins. I felt sluggish but the pace wasn’t bad considering.
Once on the course proper I began to settle into a better rhythm. The stretch on the canal may have looked unimpressive at 6:40 pace but I was running into a fierce headwind. Once I reached the half way point the wind swung in my favour and the run was transformed into something far quicker. I was just one second off the Strava record for Casthorpe Hill (If only I had known…) and then on the run into town I flew down the Low Road taking two Strava segments in due course as I ran 5:54, 5:25, 5:27 and 5:56 for the final four miles of the run. It was a good effort, the left hamstring a little sore at the end from the exertion but otherwise i felt fine.
I wondered how this would leave me for Sunday morning’s Witham Wheelers Reliability Ride – a longer route at 62 miles. There was a strong wind blowing from the west and inexplicably at the last minute the route was reversed, presumably to make the ride easier. In reality it made it tougher, firstly as those who relied on their Garmin routes for navigation couldn’t and those who knew the route from memory of it the right way round found it hard to get it exactly right.
Group 4 flew for a fair amount of the ride helped by the favourable wind. We then lost our pro rider Karl to a mechanical (who we all had secretly hoped would ride at the front for the last part of the ride!) and then for the final 15-20 miles we were subjected to a relentless gale force headwind. It was tortuous and entering the outskirts of Grantham I finally cracked and rode in slowly with another rider. At the club house I looked and felt a broken man… It was a whole hot cross bun and a flapjack required to give me the energy to ride back home.
Once home the food must have done some good because the idea of a brick run, scrapped somewhere in a headwind after 55 miles of riding, was suddenly back on the agenda. I headed out and after a mile or so the legs began to feel not so bad, I even summoned a sub 6:30 mile to conclude the 5k run. Sadly my Garmin got a bit confused and the run was a bit corrupted by the time it hit Strava, but the mile splits remained intact (I think an elevation issue caused the issue).
That was the last week of training for a while wear a weekend race of some sorts isn’t in the agenda, kicking off with this Saturday’s National Cross Country Championships. It coincides with a busy spell of work with F1 Testing, so who knows how the body will be in three weeks or so time!
Part of what makes an autumn marathon different from a spring one is that, for most, factoring in family holidays around training is going to be a likelihood. For me this year this was a week with my brother and his family in Ismaning, a town just north of Munich in Germany proud of its agricultural heritage, in particular its cabbage and potatoes.
Much as I’d loved to have spent a week enjoying nothing but the produce of the land and good company, training had to continue. The opening run was the day after we landed, made far harder by one or three too many glasses of wine and the weather, which was extremely sunny and around 32C by the time I staggered out of the door. On the advice of my brother I headed to the River Isar which has an immaculate gravel cycle path and is largely tree lined, offering some respite from the heat. I headed to the English Garden, used their toilet facilities at one of the famous Beer Kellers and headed back. It was hard going but pleasingly not impossible, eleven and a half miles covered in 6:42 per mile average and a couple of Strava segments to take back home with me as souvenirs.
Friday was spent in the joys of Play Mobil land, a magical place for young kids that became something of a trial of endurance thanks to weather even hotter than the day before. We were grateful for the large thunderstorm on the drive back home, although that in itself brought challenges – namely staying on the road.
The break in the weather meant it was a mere 22C or so when I headed out on Saturday morning. Feeling refreshed after a day off I soon found myself in my running as I again hit the River Isla. I headed in the opposite direction, away from Munich and planned to head down and back for four miles at marathon heart rate to make it a ten mile run in total. The results were very pleasing, averaging the entire run at 6:08 per mile and sub six minute miles for the final eight of them.
Sunday saw wet and dreary conditions as my brother and I headed out. He would join me for just 4km before I headed back onto the River Isla path and into Munich for a spot of sightseeing. Having been more or less the only runner out on the hot days, there were many runners on this far cooler day. Indeed the German runners, who my brother informed me have a penchant for overdressing, would have me convinced it was a a winters morning, some wearing three or more layers, hats, even gloves. The reality was it was 20C by the end of the run and, once the rain had cleared, ideal for running.
After a slow first three miles, I settled into a pace of around 6;45 pace, which felt comfortably aerobically but I had a few niggles with the left hip and groin which made the going a little tough. It got harder as I hit central Munich – the cycle path twisty and even a little hilly in places. I turned around at just over ten miles, the 6:45 miles slowed to 6:59 at 13 as I began to labour. Still seven miles from home I decided attack was the best form of defence from fatigue and began to up the effort, knocking out successive miles of 6:52; 6:38; 6:35; 6:27; 6:35; 6:04 and 6:12 for the twentieth and final mile. It was a pleasing end to what had been quite a challenging run.
Monday saw a decent evening 10k recovery run on the loop by brother had run on the Sunday. The legs loosened off sufficiently to knock off two sub 6:40 miles to close.
Tuesday saw a day off running and saw my brother and I head off on the much talked about cycle ride planned for weeks in advance. Nearly scuppered by a couple of pre-ride punctures we finally headed out for a very pleasant 70 mile ride. I was on my brothers racer, he was on his touring bike used mostly for commuting. His racer was a little large but perfectly rideable and I took the lions share of the work at the front – only fair considering I was on a faster, lighter bike. It was only on the hills I gave myself leave to stretch myself, enjoying thankfully pain free ascents for the first time in a while.
The final morning saw an 11 mile ride I mapped out on my Garmin the night before, taking in parts of runs before and venturing further afield to a rather picturesque lake, the emergence of which a very old man, as naked as the moment he was born, from a swim, left an indelible mark on my mind. It was an easy paced run, pleasing then that it averaged 6:51 per mile.
The last run in Germany was also the last for a while that I wasn’t suffering from a cold picked up mid-trip. A small price to pay for an enjoyable and productive week away.
Quite a bit like a parkrun, sitting a sportive in as a race report doesn’t entirely sit properly. To get around prohibitively expensive and quite probably impossible to attain road closures, sportives are at pains to stress that they aren’t races but merely events that are timed. Some offer medals based on your finishing time. To make the event even less like a race than a parkrun, finishing times are often not even displayed in a time based order.
The reason this fits in to the race section is that, unlike the handicap bike race I took part in a few weeks ago with Witham Wheelers, the Bronte Monster Sportive was undoubtedly one of the hardest sporting events I have ever taken part in. Its quiet unassuming nature; hardly any fanfare at start nor finish, belied the sheer enormity of the challenge packed into 88 miles.
It’s by no means the longest sportive on the calendar, most like to come in at over 100 miles to make the sense of achievement seem more significant. It’s not even that large an event, with only perhaps a couple of hundred taking part. What makes the event so tough is that in the heart of Yorkshire, it packs in over 22 hills (or Cotes as they are now more familiarly known in the area thanks to the 2014 Tour De France Grande Departe), most of which have percentages that average 8% minimum, many of them considerably steeper. Thanks to the Vale of Belvoir I have a fair few hills on my doorstep that could be used as a test run, but as it transpired the vast majority are mere mole hills in comparison to the sheer abundance of lung busting, leg breaking climbs in Yorkshire.
The sportive was based in Keighley and proceeds were going to the local Sue Ryder hospice – over £4000 was raised on the day. As I drove up from Grantham the poor weather became progressively worse. As I tried to navigate Bradford I could barely see out of the car windows the rain was falling so hard. I pity those who had chosen to leave at between 7:15 and 8:15, they would have experienced terrible conditions, apparently a fair few chose to abandon.
As it was when I arrived at 8:15 the rain chose to stop and the sun even attempted to make an appearance. I took around 45 minutes getting changed, making decisions on how much clothing to wear – I went nearly full spring spec, at the last moment electing to carry the long gloves and knee warmers in case the weather really deteriorated – and set off at just gone 9 o’clock.
The first couple of miles were easy enough as we left Keighley – I recognised the roads from our family holiday a year earlier when we made a couple of tricks to the Eureka! museum in Halifax. The issues I’d had with the gears not shifting properly I’d seemingly fixed with some lube and gentle manipulation – the changes were crisp and smooth – I felt quite proud of myself for this very small piece of mechanical proficiency. The first climb on the Halifax road was 1.6 miles long and a Cat 4 climb according to Strava. I felt comfortable up this, aware that I wanted not put in too much effort too early on.
A short downhill followed then we climbed up Bridgehouse Lane at Haworth (Famous for the Bronte Parsonage Museum) and took a dogleg left turn onto Main Street which is not only very steep, but cobbled. Despite the severity of the climb I was feeling fresh and making good progress. I was just passing two other riders on the steepest bit near the top when…. SNAP!!! I lost all drive from the pedals. I nearly went over the handlebars, my Garmin dismounting from its mount and onto the floor – thankfully without damage. A quick look down and I saw the chain, under considerable strain, had snapped at a seemingly weak link. Luckily I was able to unclip from my pedals and avoided a low speed topple. I walked the short distance to the top of the hill and thought the game was up. A long way to travel for just under four miles of cycling.
Eerily calm, I had a quick chat to the photographer at the top of the hill (Apparently the shot from that vantage spot was front page of The Times when the tour passed through twelve months earlier. I’d bought equipment for a puncture, but not for a chain snap (It has never happened to me before). There was an emergency number I could call, I assumed in this instance it would be to pick me up so I could make it back to the start and head home for an early bath.
To my great relief the voice on the other end of the phone stated that someone would be on their way and would try their best to get me back on the road. Around 20 minutes later salvation did indeed turn up in the form of one of the race organisers, complete with a large white van. Not safe to park at the top of this very narrow hill, he drove me a couple of hundred meters to a nearby car park – he said he wouldn’t report it to the commissaire, which was quite topical, as a rider in the Tour De France had been disqualified from the race the previous day for the exact same offence when his chain too broke.
It was not a quick fix, the broken chain link proving very stubborn to come out. However after 15 minutes or so the job was done and I waved the van off out of the car park. Ten seconds later I was trying to hail him back for after two pedal strokes the chain had snapped again! Slightly bemused I rang the organisers again and I was told a few minutes later my mechanic would be back just as soon as they’d rescued a rather lost competitor. Not too long after he returned; a few more chain links were removed and fixed. We made the wise decision to do a test lap of the car park to decide the chain was in good order. Thankfully it was and, after an eighty minute delay, I was back in the game.
After a few miles I almost wished the chain had been too damaged to fix. The climb out of Oxenhope (A third category climb on Strava, was very hard thanks to a stiff headwind. What made the ride more bearable was the plethora of hand written messages to Tour De France riders from the previous year, still clearly visible from the road. Indeed for 21 miles we followed last year’s stage two route and even if it could in no way compare to twelve months earlier, you could almost feel the fever still lingering a year on.
Having reached the high point of the Sportive early on (a shade over 1400ft) The long descent back down to 360 ft was fairly hairy thanks to some blustery winds. Indeed the wind was quite a factor during the ride – the next long climb up to over 1000ft, the well known Cragg Vale, which is apparently the longest continuous hill in the UK, was into a stiff head wind, which made the relatively shallow gradients feel all the harder. It was here I began to pass fellow competitors, I was no longer the last man on the road.
After the drop down from Cragg Vale we came to the first of three check points which doubled up as feed stations. I took on as much flapjack and chocolate I could muster, and with me also came a banana, half of which literally fell out of my mouth as I tried to eat it on a descent which quite quickly had me at 45mph.
Incidents were thankfully few and far between on the ride. We were warned at the checkpoint that at one hill the road had actually been closed at short notice for resurfacing. Thankfully we were permitted to use the footpath and after a short delay were back on our way. Miles 30 to around 65, which included another briefly visited checkpoint, were just a relentless succession of steep ascents followed by steep descents, the kind of which you can’t relax on as you hurtle out of control possibly just moments from imminent disaster.
Thanks to my chain issues I’d lost my two lowest gears on the big chain ring. Not a huge deal, but useful gears to have on some sections of the ride and a pain to accidentally engage at points and find the chain jamming. Despite this I felt I was riding quite strongly, indeed on Strava I was typically in the top three on the day for most of the climbs, but some way down on the descents where I was being quite cautious. There were even a couple of hills where I made the top thirty, and one the top ten, which I was quite proud of.
That said, by 60 miles I was beginning to suffer badly. Having the route loaded on Garmin was very useful in terms of navigation and the elevation profile handy for letting me know when hills were coming or if they were coming towards and end. By the 16th or so hill – each one marked on route at the beginning and end – and with a series of large spikes still to come, I wondered if I was going to make it, especially as my left knee was beginning to ache quite a bit thanks to a tight IT band. I would definitely have had to stop were it not for it being pain free when I stood on the pedals to cycle – which ended up being most of the way up the latter hills.
Shortly before the final feed station at around 67 miles, there was an option to cut the ride short and ride 72 miles. It was severely tempting – quite a few apparently had and many more were likewise enticed by the prospect of an early end to what had now become near misery. The stubborn fool that I am meant I decided I’d entered the 88 mile Monster and the 88 mile Monster was what I was going to finish.
A quick stop at the final feed station (only four or five more steep climbs I was cheerily told) and I was back on my way, only to be hit by a bout of severe stomach cramps which, if I was running would have been disastrous, but on a bike merely at times very uncomfortable. Still, I battled on. The third from last climb Netherghyll Lane was a 20% bastard – the cadence dropped to a point where pedals were barely turning, those ahead of me had given up and walked. I made it to the top only to be faced a couple of minutes later by the fourth category Dick Lane climb. At 1.8 miles and averaging 6%, on most rides for non Yorkshire folks it would be the killer climb. But after 20 or so of Yorkshire’s finest for practice, somehow I found this one relatively easy.
Climb finished and 80 miles into the ride, I’d thought we’d tackled all the climbs as we dropped down into Sutton-In-Craven, narrowly avoiding taking a wrong turn and returning to the correct route, even seeing a welcome sign post for Keighley, which we disappointingly were signposted to ride in the opposite direction from. A couple of miles later and we took an innocuous looking right hand turn into what looked like any modern day housing estate. This housing estate though was built on Burrows Lane which, leading to Redcar Lane, forms a 1.8 mile climb which Strava has classified as a third category climb.
According to my probably dodgy Garmin elevation data (but gives an idea of the climb), the initial ramp was around 12-15%, followed by a short section of 3-6% where I thought the climb was coming to an end. However a left hand turned revealed another ramp, this time more severe, with a short section over 20%. I’ve never had to climb off my bike on a hill before, but here I had to briefly admit defeat. I walked for 15-20 meters to a point where the hill’s severity lessened a touch, came to my senses and got back on my bike. Happily, although the climb continued for another mile and had a section of only 12%, I was able to recover sufficiently to make it to the top, bizarrely setting the 43rd best time out of 391 riders for the hill segment on Strava. I can only assume that walking was barely any slower than riding at the moment where I climbed off.
That hill done and with 86 miles covered, I knew now it would be downhill to the finish – and indeed it was. In a very understated way I came to the finish to be greeted by the man who came to my rescue when my chain snapped. He congratulated me on my efforts. I thanked him not only for helping me in my hour of need but for creating a truly brutal course which pushed body and mind to the limit. They offered a barbecue at the finish. My stomach overdosed on energy drinks, bananas, sweets, flapjack, chocolate bars and malt loaf, I politely declined the offer, but welcomed a nice cup of Yorkshire Tea.
My official finishing time, including the time taken for repairs and the small amount of time at checkpoints, was 6 hours 59 minutes, earning me a bronze medal. My Garmin time (which discounts any stops) was 5 hours 40 minutes, which was five minutes inside the time limit for a silver medal – which I would have come close to attaining had I not had the mechanical issues. The time though was largely irrelevant, it was an achievement just to finish. Each of the people I spoke to at the end said it was the hardest sportive they’d ever done.
I wasn’t going to argue with them.
Publishing my data – putting the doubters to rest 😉
Having joined local cycling club Witham Wheelers at the end of 2014, the next progression having joined them on several cafe rides and their Reliability Rides (the same idea but without the coffee stop) was to take part in their weekly time trials. The staple diet of many British cyclists for generations, the once clique, at times secretive (codes for courses) is now happily a much more all embracing pastime, which sees riders of all shapes, sizes, and abilities compete against others, but more importantly, themselves and their previous best efforts.
Witham Wheelers has a summer time trial league, mostly consisting of a weekly 10 mile TT on a rolling course shaped roughly like a drunk stick man. In a world far removed from running, where the only real requisite (for a man) is a pair of trainers (Which can be as cheap or as expensive as you desire, it makes little difference as long as they fit and suit your running style – if you believe the experts) cycling and, in particular time trialing, is a discipline where money can buy you fancy kit and the fancy kit can earn you free seconds, perhaps even minutes. On display at any club TT are a dizzying plethora of aero bikes, aero bars, aero helmets, aero wheels, aero bottles, skin suits, shoe covers and more. It’s a discipline where aero drag is the devil and plenty of power too is a must.
Ten miles on a bike may seem a simple proposition, but when you are racing contre la montre, and you are an instinctively competitive animal, it is as tough as any running race – in some ways harder. The pain is different but it is a painful pursuit. And I am addicted.
My first foray in time trialing was a brief dalliance back in the year 2000 when I was a Leamington CC member for around six months. I took part in two or three of their time trials on the Fosse, raising a few eyebrows with my mode of transport – a mountain bike, and attire – trainers, baggy shorts and, for my first effort, a cotton t-shirt with Kermit the Frog all over it. I think I was not far from last on the flat time trials, but I caused a minor sensation when later in the summer on the hill climb TT at Edge Hill, aided by the purchase of a cycling jersey and shorts, I pedaled my mountain bike up the hill in a time good enough to take third place. The efforts merited attention of the club newsletter (Promising newcomer I was crowned) and there were even mutterings of banning mountain bikes for hill climbs as they could be construed as having an unfair advantage with their more generous compact chain sets.
Over the winter I had a couple of worrying crashes on my commute to work. I then changed jobs which meant long hours and a long commute and cycling all but disappeared from my training regime for five years. In late 2006 I bought my racing bike I still ride to this day. I used it to ride from Land’s End to John O’Groats, took part in a couple of sportives and a duathlon, but was sparingly used for many years until the end of 2014 when I joined Witham Wheelers.
The bike cost me £1000 which I considered a small fortune for a bike. I now realise there are people I ride with whose wheels probably cost twice that amount. The plan is to upgrade, but for the time being I’m making the most of my slightly overweight, slightly inefficient machine and using the most of my limited financial resources to make marginal gains in other areas.
For my first TT I knew I needed a pair of aero bars. I researched long and hard and purchased literally the cheapest ones I could buy. They are very simple, prone to a little movement unless I tighten them a lot, but for short rides they are doing a decent job of getting myself into a reasonable aero position. I was pretty nervous at the start line, barely able to clip myself in properly despite being firmly held at the start. I shot off and pedaled as hard and fast as I could. Four minutes in and I was shattered, heart rate sky high and with that horrible dead feeling in my legs. And that was on the downhill section! The rest of the ride was a lesson in how not to time trial – unable to sit in an aero position, legs full of lactate, and I came home in 27:25, claiming 22nd position and one precious point. Not as terrible ride as I thought, but there was over four minutes separating myself from the winner.
First Witham Wheelers TT – showing less than optimal aero position.
The second TT I thought I’d be able to easily go quicker by just knowing the course, but was not willing to give it everything as I had a half an eye on running the London Marathon that weekend. I was though a touch disappointed to see I’d managed to go seven seconds slower. This prompted hours of research on the internet on learning good TT technique and, more importantly, the cheapest ways to earn ‘free time’ in the form of aero enhancements. I stumbled upon a website which, although based on an elite rider, gave a good indication of where I should prioritise my budget to get the best bang for my buck. Aero bars came first, followed by skin suit, aero helmet, and shoe covers.
I had the (cheap) aero bars covered. My cycling jerseys are all fairly baggy – a penchant for loose fitting running clothing carried over into cycling. Two days after running the London Marathon I couldn’t face running so thought I’d give the TT another chance. I purchased the closest I can get to a skin suit for now – a Witham Wheelers club jersey, which was a long overdue purchase. Going against my instincts to size up, I got a small which just about fits and certainly doesn’t flap around in the wind.
I then went against all best practice when testing kit for aero improvements – I changed another variable. The previous two attempts at TT’s I’d ridden fairly high cadence – averaging 93 and 96 rpm. Because the legs were pretty worn out after the marathon I tried the old school approach of grinding out a big gear in warm up. Instantly I saw that the pace was as good, if not better, than when I was spinning frantically. I could also stay in the aero position more comfortably with the bike more stable.
So I rode the TT in blustery conditions, riding as best I could with the legs in the shape they were. Whether it was the power (or shape) of the jersey or the change in cadence, against all the odds I rode the course 22 seconds faster than I’d previously done, coming home just outside 27 minute (27:03). As less people had turned up in the windy conditions, I was pleased to finish eighth. It was a pleasant surprise that left me wondering if I should run a marathon every Sunday.
Spurred on, I scoured eBay for second hand aero helmets – the next investment in the pursuit of speed. To my surprise second hand helmets were selling often for not much less than new ones, which ultimately made me opt to go for the piece of mind of purchasing a new one. I went for a Lazer Tardiz in golf ball white – on sale at nearly half price at the wonderfully namedFat Birds (Don’t Fly)cycle shop in Hunstanton. I splashed out on the plastic cover which blocked out the vents when it wasn’t warm enough to merit having them. More seconds saved, perhaps.
The Aero Helmet
Last week I didn’t get to try out my new purchase as gale force winds meant all but the most resilient turned out to ride. I hate strong winds so plodded off to Grantham Running Club for a hills session instead.
Yesterday though things were better. It was still windy enough to be less than ideal, but not, in my opinion, dangerously so. Looking distinctive in my new aero helmet (My two year old daughter called it the airplane helmet) I set off for my fourth effort at the Witham Wheelers 10 Mile TT. My warm up was less aggressive than in previous weeks. Going off number 18, I pfaffed around in the final minutes debating whether to wear arm warmers. With two minutes to go I decided to wear them; with a minute to go and called to the start I decided to tinker with the settings on the Garmin. I finally got my feet in the pedals with around 15 seconds to spare.
The TT began into the wind. Settling briefly into the tuck I immediately noticed the difference the aero helmet was making – I reckon around 2-3mph over the short stretch to the first left turn. The run down to ‘turn one’ was aided by the wind and with the chain in the lowest gear I ground out a super low cadence – probably too low – as I hit 31mph approaching the first hairpin turn.
The Strava segment suggests I took the hairpin quite well. I then faced the reality that the wind had aided me quite a lot as it was now full on in my face and the long drag back was interminably hard. Head wind and 1% gradients are probably my least favourite cycling conditions and once again I lost time. I picked up a bit as we passed through Hungerton and the wind became more of a cross head wind. The long drag the second hairpin took an eternity. All eyes were on the average speed. I knew that if I made it to the hairpin at >21.7mph I was on for a new PB. I clocked 22.0mph as I turned back on myself. Invigorated I settled back into the tuck position and ground the big gear as best I could.
Once again the final mile and a half saw me flag a little. It’s going to take a few more weeks before I have the cycling legs to give it full beans for the full ten miles. Spurred on though by a possible new PB, I pushed hard to the line, shouting out my number and stopping my Garmin. 26:34! Thirty seconds better than last time. The power of the aero helmet! I knew too that my official time would be quicker, and so it was (26:29). What I hoped I may be able to achieve come the end of the summer I’d managed at my fourth attempt.
I was so happy I rode home and tried a brick session run. That too wasn’t a disaster. After a tough first half mile I settled into a steady, if little ponderous rhythm to clock a sub 22 minute 5k.
Thoughts already turn to the next time trial and where to extract more time at minimal cost. Working on optimum cadence is probably key, then working on getting a good tuck position. All good fun, and so far not too expensive. But I am looking at bikes on Ebay…
