There’s no honour in not training for an event. In turning up at the start and saying to anyone and everyone within earshot, whether they want to listen or not, that “I’ve not done any training.” In not respecting the race distance.
Loath to become one of those types of people when I line up for the start of Ride London 100, I got on my bike and headed to Oxford. To say I haven’t done any training would be a lie. I’ve been on my bike at least four days a week for most of the year cycling to and from work in all weathers. Snow, rain, heatwaves, wind – you name it, I’ve cycled through it. I clock up 10 miles on a bike commute and cycle up a steep hill on the way home.
Long cycles have been lacking, however. The longest non-stop cycle I’d done was 25 miles and had been sandwiched between a 1500m swim and a 10k run at the Marlow triathlon in June. 25 miles isn’t a short distance to cycle, but when a friend reminded me “you’ve run further than that” it was time to up my game.
Katie knows a bit about cycling. She’s cycled from John O’Groats to Land’s End before. That’s quite far. Much further than I need to cycle.
One thing I’ve learnt over the years is that it’s great hanging around people that have raced much further distances than you’re attempting – it makes your stupid, over-ambitious plans look more achievable. So I took my bike on the train to Oxford to visit her and hoped the cycle she planned to take me on was a little more modest.
On what was one of the hottest Saturdays the UK has experienced in recent years, three of us (me, Katie and Anita – another speedy cyclist) headed out to the Oxfordshire countryside.
“I thoroughly believe the key to cycling longer is to get out of London” Katie had emailed me. She was right. Without any traffic or stop signs, the miles flew by. And I had a couple of friends to chat to as we went.
My chat was something along the lines of: “I’m sure this village was in Midsummer Murders. And this one. And this one. Is that DCI Barnaby?” Yeah, it was quite pretty.
Soon enough there was no chatter coming from any of us as we reached Brill Hill. As names go, this was as misleading as they get. It was not brill, at least not as far as my legs were concerned. I puffed my way to the top, trailing behind the other two, careful to balance by speed so it wasn’t quite so slow that I would come to a complete stop and fall off.
At the top I collapsed onto a bench that, once I’d regained the ability to talk, I conceded, yes, did have quite a brill view. Katie cycled off to fetch icecreams and cans of cold drinks. This, I agreed, was one thing that cycling had over running.
28 miles into our cycle I conceded another victory to cycling. “Want to stop at the pub?” Katie shouted over her shoulder. It was met with a very enthusiastic: “YES! I thought you’d never ask.” There were just two miles to go which meant another delicate balancing act – how much can we drink and still cycle back safely?
Oh gawd, I am certainly not proud of the fact I haven’t done enough training and am going for a panic training sesh tonight. I think the most daunting thing isn’t my lack of training though, it’s the whole set up of a group cycle race and things like water/fueling (what do you do at water stations when you’re cycling at speed, surrounded by other cyclists going fast? Are there even water stations?).