***The next few posts may be out of chronology a bit***
The Scottish weather can be awkward. Not because it rains all the time, but because it doesn't. Raining all the time, or at predictable times, I can deal with. It's the unreliable forecasting that gives me problems.
From Thursday on, this weekend was being predicted as a washout for Scotland. Sure enough, on Saturday, it piddled down all day, and, figuring that it'd be my only exercise, I went down the gym and duly thrashed myself.
That evening, the forecast changed.
Let's be clear here - I don't have weekends to spare. In the rare event I have 'nothing else on', and I get given a training opportunity, I have to take it. It's the only way I can progress. So I went to Arran.
Initially, I wondered whether the weather had reverted to the original forecast - light drizzle in Glasgow was an ominous portent. Nevertheless, I figured that I'd be heading out from under the cloud, and, full of optimism, I wore nothing but a jersey and some xc shorts. There was a chance I could best my century, after all. Regrets could come later.
My legs were heavy, but I felt in good spirits as I pushed the bike onto the ferry, noting with appreciation that there were lighter skies in the west. A couple of laps around the island - roughly 110 miles. If I went clockwise, that'd only really expose me to a so'wester when it could help me, and would get the lumpy terrain out of the way early. A perfect plan. Best check the timetable, though.
Ah.
In order to make the last ferry, I would have to average over 30kph. Overall. Inclusive of stoppages.
Well, maybe I'd be onto a flier. And I'd get lucky with mechanicals. Maybe.
I don't particularly fancy commenting on the weather throughout this - the only reason I brought it up was to explain that I wasn't approaching this century with anywhere near fresh legs, so I'll just say now that it was dry throughout with a low ceiling of cloud, and be done with it. There.
I shot south out of Brodick and instantly started suffering on the hill. My heart rate monitor was mounted on the handlebars (where I'd wrapped a sock to provide the strap with purchase) , and after this first warm-up indiscretion, I tried to make sure I stayed below threshold for the rest of the ride, no matter how slow I was going. This ride was genuinely going to be on my limit, without question. I took a couple of inhaler puffs and pushed on.
The south side of the island seemed to drag on, a headwind componding the Cornwall-type terrain. Whenever the road started to point downhill, it would always seem to throw in a few sharp bends and the road surface would deteriorate into something that buses would fear to roll on. Once I got onto the flat on the west, though, it'd all average out.
I got to the flat on the west.
It wasn't averaging out.
I'm not sure if the wind was against me or what, but it was a huge slog to maintain 20mph on what should have been flat terrain. After miles and miles of this, I crested a very, very sharp hill, and everything changed. Suddenly the wind was behind me, and the same effort was netting 37kph. This was brilliant.
Well, it was brilliant for a while. Then it became euphoric.
Riding bikes is a funny old hobby. You work so hard, consistently, putting your body right on the limit of what it can sustain, and then sustaining it, maybe for hours at a time. Add to this the freedom and lonliness of the road, the beauty of the world around you, the speed and the sensation and... maybe it's just a sum of all these things. Maybe it's something more. I don't know. All I know is that there are times when riding a bike can make me feel like nothing else on earth can make me feel.
I'm not talking about it just making me happy. Yes, riding bikes makes me happy, sometimes very happy. This is different. It's happened less than a dozen times, usually after more than an hour's cycling, generally with the wind slightly behind me to provide easy, flowing speed, often with music in one ear. It's chemical. It's bliss... euphoria is the only word adequate to describe it. It happened today as I came over the crest of the last of a second set of yumps along the coast, the wind behind, accelerated easily up to 40kph and held it there. Dry tears welled up in my eyes, a lump formed in my throat, and a beaming smile forced its way across my face. Anyone nearby would have thought me insane as, for a period of about half a minute, great, sobbing, hysterical bursts of laughter issued forth from my mouth. I was giddy. I was ecstatic. Nothing else in the world makes me feel quite this way. It is utterly irresistable and fantastic and if you have never felt that way before, and you are capable, I urge you to develop a comfort for riding for long periods alone on a bike, and see if it does it for you. If anyone else has a similar experience, I'd love to hear it.
I don't ride for that sensation - it isn't common, and cycling is good enough anyway. I am wary of writing about it, though. Don't let the government get wind. I'm sure anything that feels that good with no adverse affects would be bound to be deemed illegal.
The rest of the ride was a very mixed bag. Crossing back over the island, I overtook a dawdler in a car at 75+kph, which was exciting. However, my flapjacks in my jersey had amalgamated into one sticky mess that thudded into my stomach like a cannonball. Deciding that I was too tight on time to do a second loop, I crossed the middle of the island to repeat the north loop - a crossing that was considerably steeper than expected. I reached for a gel - an sis smart 1 for my personal records - which I found tasted pleasantly like a slightly rubbish berry yoghurt, but didn't sit well in my stomach and left me feeling unable to even get into a comfortable tuck through most of the last hour. Clearly, further research is required here with respect to feeding on the bike.
My final average was 29.9kph over about 90 miles- disappointing despite my excuses. I had only unclipped once the whole way around, to inspect a phantom flat tyre, and the loop is ideal time-trial territory. I'm just straight up not where I should be right now in terms of fitness.
I apologise for the lack of photos - I was utterly focussed on the ride. Arran was looking well, but, with the low cloud, not at its most picaresque through my happy-orange glasses.
Good trails!
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