I got up to use the toilet in the dark, I suspected it would be about 3am judging by how tired i felt. Imagine then the surprise/shock when I got back into bed only to be greeted by mine and alexei (my room mate)'s alarms going off 2 mins later!! It was 6.30am French time, we'd had about 6 hours of broken sleep that felt like it was only 3 hours of sleep!!
Anyway, after the laughter died down it was on with our new routine. Shower, breakfast, chat to some of the others over breakfast about how they did yesterday, or how there legs were today, back up to the room, kit on, bag on the truck, pre-ride briefing, when everyone turned up!!, and then we were away. It was 7.15am and we had a long gentle day of riding ahead of us.....so they told us anyway!!
Now because I had hammered all the hills the previous day, and bearing in mind i felt like i had only slept for 3 hours, (actually 6 hours but most of it broken) I was not on the best of form at that hour of the day and my legs took a while to wake up! We all clipped in and kicked off through the outskirts of Calais though, on what was set to be another epic day in the saddle.
Onwards....!
A few spells riding with new mates, at the sedate speed of 20kmph, (because we could!!) and we quickly found our own level on the road and set to work ticking off the miles. I eventually found myself on my own riding though French village after French village on very flat, very uninspiring roads! The scenery was very green, very rural and very flat. Apart from the French language on the street signs we could have been in Lincolnshire!!
The first water stop was supposed to be at 21 miles. I say supposed because everyone including me thought we had missed it and resigned ourselves to a morning of no stops, and a push on for lunch at 44 miles. Then we realised there was a water stop after all, albeit at 26 miles not 21!!!
Top up the water bottles, quick chat, toilet stop, down a few jelly babies to get a quick sugar rush and then back on the road.
I had another 18 miles to go to lunch, and after a while of riding on more flat, straight, rural country roads I realised I was now in Belgium! There was no fuss, no border, not even a sign which said 'welcome to belgium'!! One minute the signs had the French flag on them, the next they didn't.
At this point I have to say how much I enjoyed cycling in France (it is my adopted second home after all), but it had nothing on Belgium. For anyone who has not had the pleasure of riding through what I believe is the Flanders area of Belgium, let me break it down to you. On their roads the cyclist is king! We had cycle lanes on every road, often on their own raised pavement style path, we got right of way over vehicles at road junctions, and even on roundabouts! It really was the cycletopia that Britain hopes to emulate one day. I could ride there happily every day of the year.
Anyway, I digress, again. The next 18 miles were not the fastest I ever rode. I was starting to feel the effects of yesterday and I was also starting to develop an awkward spot in an awkward place!!! After a few unplanned stops, during which I phoned home, took energy gels, or on one occasion inadvertently used an electric fence as a toilet, I finally made it to lunch.
Picture an empty street in a deserted Belgian village, in which were camped several dozen Alzheimer's cyclists eating their home made pasta (made by our awesome caters) a makeshift canteen and one very snotty local cafe owner who made a point of telling us to pay her money before we could use the toilet.
I stocked up on carbs and calories, topped up the water bottles, narrowly avoided being shouted at for forgetting to pay my toilet tax (!!) and then cracked on. On my own. Only another 42 miles to go to Brugge, 20 to the next and final water stop. It was flat and 25 degrees, how hard could it be?!!!
The next 20 miles were painful and very tiring for some reason. None of the carbs or calories I had taken on board appeared to have had any affect and the spot was starting to really hurt. Not sure how many times I stopped, but it was a very welcome sight when I saw the final water stop.
I was tired, had low energy levels, was on my own and had a painful left groin area! Not a happy place for a cyclist with another 22 miles to ride (bearing in mind the 83 I rode yesterday and the 62 I had already limped through that day), and it was about to get even worse when I set off after the water stop.
5 minutes down the road and it started to rain, heavily, the wind picked up and the temperature dropped. I was riding on canal paths that would normally have been picturesque on another day, but right now they were my personal hell on earth. Although after I came off the canal path and onto the main road I would discover what hell was really like!
I had another 20 miles to go and there were no cycle lanes (forget what I said earlier!!). The lorries were throwing a huge swell of water my way every few minutes which blew me all over the place and yet again, I was still on my own.
I'd had enough, so I said 'f*ck this' and pulled over to the side of the road under a tree which was supposed to keep me dry but didn't! I decided I was going to quit, it wasn't worth it, I was going to call the support team to come and pick me up and drive me to Brugge in the comfort of their nice warm and dry van.
After mulling is over and stewing in my own pity and depression for a few miserable minutes, I decided quite the opposite. I had not come all this way, raised all this money, only to quit at the first sign of trouble. That wasn't me, that's not how I roll!!! So I gave myself a verbal bollocking, got a boost of mental strength, took inspiration from my kids, wife, parents, family, grandma and grandad who i was doing the ride in memory of, you lot reading this who supported me so much on twitter, text, email etc, and climbed back on the bike to head off into the rain again, promising myself I would pull over at the first bus shelter or dry spot where I would have 5 minutes away from the lorry swell and the horrible conditions.
5 minutes later I found a dry spot in an empty factory car park. It was dry, clear of the road, perfect. Some much needed luxury for a few minutes to get me ready for the final slog over the next 20 miles to Brugge when the hammer would very much be put down!
And then, just what I needed happened. Some friendly and concerned fellow riders came past. There were 3 of them in a chain gang, helping each other out to get through the miles. I told them I was fine, I was just having a breather and let them continue on their way.
No, I didn't.
I realised they were just what I needed. Doing this thing is hard enough mentally and physically, so any chance you get to make it that bit easier by riding with a group of others is not something you should turn down. I got back on the bike, clipped in and time trialled the kilometre or so to catch them up. And there I stayed for the next 20 miles to Brugge.
We had a stop after a few miles where I introduced myself to Nick, Claire and Martin. They said they were happy to have me tag on the back of them and so their group became 4.
We picked up the pace a bit as we still had 18 or so miles to go and it was still pissing it down. So we put the hammer down, ramped the speed up to 30kmph and started ticking off the miles. At every 5 miles nick would announce the fact we'd hit another milestone, closely followed by the 4 of us giving a loud cheer, much to the surprise of any passing Belgians!
Brugge quickly came upon us and we entered a sea of bikes ridden by people with no helmet, no fear and no time for stupid English tourists in funny Lycra hogging their cycle lanes!
Brugge, finally. The cobbles, oh man those fuckin cobbles, the beauty of the city, the orange triangles guiding us through the city to the hotel.
Relief, check in, shower, chill, phone home, send tweets thanking people for support, dinner, buy my new friends a well earned beer for saving my life earlier and getting me through day 2 on the bike.
Bed, see my room mate alexei again for the same routine, another alarm call in a few hours and the final day tomorrow!
On reflection this was one of those days you need as a cyclist. A bloody hard one which makes you challenge yourself to find out how strong you really are. Coming so close to quitting pushes you into a space that only goes 2 ways, out or onwards. I've been there before on previous rides so I just dug down deep, grew a pair of bollocks, got my head in the right place and accepted help when it came knocking. Easily as good a training session as any interval hill training. End result, you come out of the experience a different and stronger person than when you went into it.
More on day 3 to follow......
Phil
No comments:
Post a Comment