It had to be today.I don't believe in fate, but, sometimes, events conspire so that you can only ever see them resolving in one way. Today was one of those times.
I got my first inkling at half-past 7 with a knock on the door. Never, in the entire time I have lived here, has the post come at a time in the morning when I should actually be at home, but here it was. The crimson messenger from the gods of cycling handed me a brown cardboard box, and I had my bottom bracket.
I checked the weather - tomorrow the rain was closing in. It had to be today.
The urge to take the bike out right there and then was overwhelming, but I restrained myself to just installing it and wheeled into work. My singlespeed was a little the worse for wear after yesterday's excursion, and jumped its chain twice, but I was barely paying attention to it. The whole day, practically every movement, every thought, was directed to the evening's ride. Every bite of food, every jog up the stairs or otherwise. As the day drew to a close, I made myself an espresso, dosed up, and started my warm-up on the way home.
Careful of the chain, I span up and relaxed, span up and relaxed, taking my legs just past their aerobic limits and letting them settle. Once home, it was straight into my gear - tightest I've got, I know it'll be hot, but it won't be for long... Pressures checked, computer on, down the stairs, tracker started, HRM synced, time to go.
It was an inauspicious start. The traffic on Queen Margaret Drive was even worse than expected, but I was rolling fast and muscled my way through. Caught again on the lights from Bisland Drive onto Balmore Road - the temptation to jump for the left-hander was almost unbearable, but I held on and shot off at traffic speed up the hill. I shouldn't be going this fast - is the wind behind me? Shouldn't be. Heart rate's at 183 - back off, don't want to die half way; but wait for these lights to stop you, get your breath back there. Down the bus lane, shooting past the infuriated cars - I'm going to have to rejoin in a moment, and you're going to let me, because I'm working my arse off here and I deserve the space.
Over the lights at Blackhill Road at 40+, dodging the potholes - sorry whoever's behind, you'll have to wait 'til the cemetery before there's enough line of sight to pass, and I'm running over 25mph now so you can't complain. Climbing and falling, over the narrow bridge, now can I do this next hill in the big ring? There's traffic at the top, be aware. No need to shift, but I saw an 18 on the computer there - not good.
Sod, this traffic is insane. I know it's double-whites on a half-blind right-hander, but I'm going to have to go for it. Diving in and out between the cars, no horns - maybe my assertiveness and speed mean people actually appreciate how much effort I'm putting in. Nah, then they'd pull over enough that I wouldn't have to expose myself to oncoming traffic. Must just be too bored.
At the roundabout - going to have to use this car for cover, come on, don't slow down. The Auchenhowie road is empty. The micro turbines on the hill were right, the wind is against me. Just go. I'm touching 40 every now and again, but it's difficult. My quads feel like they're going to split my almost-aerodynamic XC shorts at the seams - strange that they would make cycling clothing that doesn't consider that having a small waist might not mean small legs.
No traffic at the A81 junction - oh no, I'm going to have to head straight up the hill and I'm half-spent. No, the lights are just changing. Ok, that's enough time to recover. It's a struggle up here, did I just see a 17? Ah, nuts. Caught at Milngavie lights, for the first time ever. Ok, crack on up the hill. The bike seems to be running so well - Conti Ultra Sports might be cheap, but I think they've conditioned me into expecting a far harsher ride. Bear that in mind. Ok, onto the broken-up section by the golf club. I'm still in the small ring and this is slowing me. That was a 23 just then. Come on, bring up the pace. 27 - it'll have to do. Heart rate's 172 - it'll have to do. Get to the top and it'll all be better.
Another 18 up the steep section - but I think on average I'm faster than normal. When will my legs come back so I can shift into the big ring? Best tighten my shoe as well - that was annoying through the whole climb. Ok, I'm rolling fast now - weird. The wind should be against me, but here I am, fastest descent into Strathblane ever. Still dropped out of the 40s over that brow, but I'm sure my highest was up near 60 this time. Lot of riders struggling up the other way. I'm hitting the switchbacks now - car, you can wait behind me, I need the room. Hold on, that 4x4 is taking its time up ahead - come on, you can do better than that. But he's still slowing. There's traffic.
A bus.
I thought I'd lost it there. Maybe it only cost me twenty seconds, but that was supposed to be the fastest section of the whole ride and I was stationary. I actually thumped my bars in exasperation.
Round the mini roundabout towards Lennoxtown and I try to let rip, but it's not happening. The wind is right in my face and my calves are feeling tight. I'm down in the twenties as I climb out of Strathblane, and as the road levels I start to get angry. This is supposed to be the fast section, the bit where I make up time, but I'm below 32. Come on, push.
COME ON!
I'm yelling at myself now. It's not a suggestion; it's a full-throated, roaring command. I don't care who hears. My mouth is hanging open, scooping air in, and thankfully precious few insects. I cough and hack, still not recovered from the cold from a week ago, and affected by Hay fever. I'm still not hitting 40s.
COME ON!
The wind seems to ease as I get into Lennoxtown. I'm too focussed, too low on the drops to fiddle with gearing, so I'm up out of the saddle on the rises, watching that bus' shadow creep up on mine. Tough luck, there's cars parked here, and the road's turning down. I'm moving out.
Through Lennoxtown almost on the speed limit. I'm only half-aware of the road - this isn't safe, but I don't care. My average has been dragged well into the early 30s. Dodge the potholes, let the cars behind you worry about when to overtake, this lane is yours.
Right-hander onto Torrance Road. Don't let up. I know it's starting you on a downhill. Don't let up. The wind is half behind you. You've never done this road this fast before. Getting to that right-hander by the Kirkintilloch Road - yes, I know there's a hill after it. Just go. You'll be over it in no time.
AARGH!
The rider coming in the other direction can't possibly have missed that cry, can't have failed to recognise that grimace, that sudden asymmetry to my pedaling. My right calf has completely cramped. I have to get up this hill, but now it's the wind doing most of the work. My left's starting to go, too. If I can just make it to the lights in Torrance, I can stretch for a second.
Cor blimey, this hurts.
The lights are enough, just. I'm still hesitant towards the roundabout, but as I slingshot out the wind is right behind me. I'm flying. I'm doing 40 and barely touching anything. That commuter in front of me is toast.
This is doable.
At Bardowie the impossible happens - I click over into an average speed of 32kph. And it's climbing.
It's not over yet. The wind might go against you. There's still hills. Keep pushing.
I take the roundabout without touching the brakes, hoping it'll slingshot me up the hill, but it's still a slog. I can't let my speed drop too far. I just can't.
Down, over the bridge, then up the next one. I've got to sit back and grind. It's the fastest way in the long run, trust me. You need to save yourself for once you get over the top.
It's the most difficult run past the cemetery I've ever done, but it's fast. Capitalise on it, roll up to the lights, straight over, up the next hill. Ok, you're at 27. I know you've done this faster, but Ok. Stop at the lights, and fly down the far side.
I'm traffic speed all the way down here, but stuck behind a stack to turn right at the lights. They're green - I'm still moving, this still counts. Come on!
Right onto Bisland Drive and it's clear the wind is behind me, for the first time I can remember. I'm going to do this. It's actually going to happen.
Past the school, down under the canal - I accelerate into the turn, watching the speedo touch 50. The lights are red, of course, and I'm stuck behind about 4 cars. They're slow to pull off, and amble their way down Queen Margaret's Drive. There's nothing I can do.
Two more streets, follow a car through the security gates, skid to a stop. Phone out of back pocket, HRM halted.
I've done it.
20 mph, for over an hour (not including time spent at lights).
109 days to find another 3kph, for four more hours.
It's still a long way.
Good trails!
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