Rides - Trossachs and Crow - Le Bonk

With the surprise holiday of Glasgow Fair being dropped on me at very short notice, the past couple of days have been a hectic blitz of shower-dodging training. On Friday it was a 90+ miler into the southern Trossachs, and yesterday a painful threshold session up the Crow road.

To be totally honest, the Trossachs were a little underwhelming. No doubt this wasn't helped by the overcast skies that flattened the whole landscape, driving the mountains into background for photographs that were lacking subjects. As for Duke's pass - don't get me started. The pass certainly didn't. I was under the impression that it'd be some sort of masochistic endurance test only slightly preferable to self-flagellation with razor wire, but in fact the whole thing only raises about 200m, and the gradient barely beats 10%. This, plus my good legs, meant that the climb I had been "saving myself" for was over before I'd even raised my heart rate.

It was a bit of a peleton day all told, really. I had meant to go out harder, but just wasn't feeling it. I seem to be "coming into form" (I think - having never had "form" before), which is both a good and bad thing. Good in the sense that climbing feels absolutely fantastic; bad in the sense that it's temporary, and might disappear by the time I get around to Wales.

I suppose it was a good thing I held back, though, because with about twenty miles to go I had a bonk so large radio telescopes will have to be recalibrated to ignore the repercussions of it. Scientists in the future will have theories as to what the universe was like before a bonk of this magnitude; some will even refute the existence of such a bonk, even though the evidence is all around them. Somebody might even write a book about it.

With a snap like someone closing a ring binder, I had no energy left. My pace dwindled to 10mph, and my numbed legs spun loosely. It wasn't a case of pushing being too hard - there was simply nothing to push with.

It wasn't as surprising as perhaps it should have been. Since my legs have been so good, and my climbing so much better lately, I had decided to keep an eye on what I was eating with a view to dropping a couple of kilos for the big climbs come Wales. Running a 300-500 calorie deficit over the previous few days, with no preparation for a hundred-miler, and only a couple of sandwiches to keep me company over the ride, it was no shock that I ran stocks dry. Nevertheless, I felt awful. Not because anything hurt, but because nothing hurt. Here I was, in the most intense training period before the ride, completely unable to push; had my legs been in meditation, they would probably have been empty enough to reach Nirvana, and they certainly felt that far away from me. I cringed and hung my head apologetically as cars passed me, my computer accusatorially informing me that I was spinning along (in second-to-bottom gear) at less than half my normal speed.

Long story short, I'm not dieting any more.

Yesterday was a quick threshold session up the Crow from both sides, in the rain. It's fair to say that I preferred the climbing to the descending, despite my embarrassing thousand-yard-stare, needing air so badly I couldn't even close my mouth to swallow through the hardest parts. Yes, I climbed with stupendous purpose, desperately painful even on my good legs, but at least it was warm. Descending, I was in the odd situation where it was more comfortable to adopt an aero position and drag the brakes rather than sit up, since it brought my warm legs into closer proximity to my sodden and chilly belly. The descent also took an excruciatingly long time. I didn't want to take any risks, but, come the day, this caution might actually be a bit of a problem. I really need to learn where my grip limits are - but preferably keeping my collarbones intact.

The outcome of the past couple of days, then, has been that my monthly average has utterly collapsed. Looks like I've got some work to do to drag it back up!

Good trails!

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/robrideswales

Ride(tt) - Lennoxtown Loop (new PB - 34.4)

That's all you're getting from me.

Sae thayr.

Really, I don't think I can do any better. The TT this morning was technically as close to perfect as I've ever done it. I've nailed the descent into Strathblane a little better, and I dozed off on the approach to the mini-roundabout, costing me a few seconds. Overall, though, it felt fantastic. I was floating up hills at 20mph that were cramping me up months ago. There was barely a climb that I wasn't 3kph faster than just a few weeks ago, though the flats and descents weren't quite the fliers I'd have hoped for. I rode to my heart rate, and never came close to blowing up.

Perhaps that was the problem.

Overall average heart rate was 165 - the only time I've been higher on the road was on that first dash past 20mph. But I wasn't hurting. I wasn't thrashing. I wasn't eking out every last ounce of force from my legs. I was just riding to a computer.

Is it worth one last go, then? Maybe, if I get time, but I might have to let this target slip. I have a week remaining to go 35k in an hour, but I don't think unbridled aggression is going to better what I put in this morning, and I need to focus on training. Overall intensity needs to be high now, which means I can't take sessions off to prepare for TTs, and good weather needs to be matched with rides out to the long climbs to get me ready for Wales, which takes time.

If you're thinking I'm sounding remarkably upbeat about potentially missing this target, you'd be right. Not wanting to blow my own trumpet too much, but what I've achieved so far has been huge. In two months I've gone from 111.5s per kilometre over my TT to 104.7 - a saving of 6.8s per kilometre, or almost 11 seconds per mile. People use £2000+ TT bikes to make improvements of that sort of magnitude, and all I've done is just ride more!

Pictures speak a thousand words, though, so check out the graph below. It's heavily averaged, and includes all the time I'm stuck at lights or checking maps, but the trend is so obvious it could take your eye out. So, for now, I'm focusing on training, and then - who knows? Come Wales, miracles might happen...

Good trails!

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/robrideswales

Ride(tt) - Lennoxtown Loop (new PB - 33.1)

Well, things are definitely improving!

I'm sorry that things have been so quiet around here lately, but there's been little news to deliver. Last week's bad weather and time constraints meant that it was characterised by three absolutely epic, leg-destroying back-to-back gym sessions in the week and a long, restful weekend.

After getting back into Glasgow at about midnight, I failed to respond to my 4.30 morning time-trial alarm with anything more than an entirely sub-conscious hammering of the "dismiss" button - a situation that I wasn't aware of until another alarm sounded off at gone 7. With the danger of hitting rush-hour, I elected to doze for a while, then set-up some work remotely and do my run after the worst had passed.

It would have been a good plan - the roads were quiet enough, and the weather perfectly warm and still - but for the hyperactive traffic lights that conspired to mar my progress. There wasn't a set that didn't stop me - even the pelican crossings got in on the action in some cases. Moreover, my heart rate monitor chose today as the day its battery finally died, so I was riding on Rate of Perceived Exertion only - something I'm not used to when I have legs this fresh.

Excuses aside, I felt brilliant. The whole ride, I felt like I had a following wind, and it was almost laughable how easily I blew aside my old PB. I still felt fresh as I arrived home. That, of course, was the problem.

That I've improved clearly can't be doubted. Whether I'm capable of 35kph is a little more uncertain. I'll hopefully try again on Thursday morning, weather permitting, but 1.9kph is a lot to make up. Things couldn't really have been any better than this morning, but my time-trialling just wasn't up to scratch.

It's not actually just fitness. My inability to accurately judge my exertion meant that I peaked-and-troughed over a scale of minutes, and on a sub-second scale my laziness with gear changes meant that my cadence frequently dropped below 90. The rhythmic surges of power being put down on the flat sections, followed immediately by gaping, silent dead-zones, would be enough to make a person sea-sick. I was mashing. Whilst I was pleased with my descent into Strathblane, my overall technique left a lot to be desired.

Whilst I'm generally at best ambivalent towards the idea of electronic shifters, I can't deny that they have a place when time-trialling. The long throw of my sora shifters, and the necessity to jump to the hoods to knock the chain back down the sprokets, played a large part in my poor leg speed. Nevertheless, I can't blame them - I must just use them better.

Another 10 days or so to beat my 35kph target.

Good trails!

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/robrideswales

Century! - Isle of Bute x4.5

Today is T-50 days. A big milestone, with an equally big target to hit - complete a solo century in under 5 hours. At 10% slower than the tour ride, and about 10% shorter, under the toughest conditions it'd leave room for improvement. I didn't have time for the toughest conditions, though. My timetable mix-up with the Arran ride a fortnight ago meant I had one serious attempt remaining. Do it today, or not at all.

To give myself the best possible chance, then, I picked out my route to be on the flattest, least complex, least trafficked roads available - 4 loops of Bute and a TT up to the north ferry and back. The weather was to be virtually still, with a small breeze oscillating from the south, and dry. With a mixture of luck and perserverance, this would be possible.

Knowing the the major threat on the day would be drag, I popped off the peak of my helmet to make such tuck as I could get on my rearing beast of a bike more comfortable, and chose my smallest, lightest jersey as my only top layer. At ten to six, I wheeled down to central station in the glorious early sunshine and waited.

And waited.

Things were off to a bad start, as usual. A points failure just outside of Central had scuppered transport to the ferry ports. I would have almost 90 shivering minutes to wait before the situation was resolved. Good thing I wasn't in a rush.

After the connection between the train and ferry - at a mere 5 minutes - was missed, I hung around with a bunch of other cyclists doing an island-hop in a similar situation, ate a bacon butty, and chilled out.

I didn't really need the food - the quantities I had consumed the night before we gargantuan, even by my standards - and I don't think anyone who knows me would be under the impression that I am a frugal eater. The knowledge that cycling burns a lot of calories gives me a fair license to eat what I like, but because of my poor dietary discipline, I do have to cycle rather a lot. This is a vicious cycle, but unlike the type of vicious cycle that has only a few millimetres of trail and no bar plugs.

We arrived onto an island bathed in sunshine, but with an air temperature pleasantly below 20 degrees, Not having anything better to do, it was straight onto the bike, a left turn, and away. My inhaler bobbled out of my pocket shortly afterwards, but I figured I'd retrieve it on the next lap - which I did, without it having moved an inch.

Once I was rolling, all doubts were stripped away. The road was almost flat, and at around 160bpm, 35kph seemed like a lower limit. The hills crossing over and up the west side were short, sharp and frequent, but with the first few k under my belt, there wasn't any danger of the average dropping below 32.

The low farmland was pleasant and homely, an almost golden tinge lended to it by the strong sunshine. The roads were generally well-kept, and apart from loose stones on junctions and tractor trails, there weren't any hazards to be concerned about. I didn't feel the need to "push it" on the downhills anyway.

With conservative riding and a slowing for roadworks outside Port Bannatyne, the first lap was completed at an average speed of 33.4kph. I almost became apathetic to the point of giving up - this was going to be too easy!

By lap 3, I needed to put some food in me, and the combination of faffing with a plastic bag and the heaviness of the banana flapjack I had made meant that I started fearing for my average. The lap itself may have been under 20mph. Good fuel though flapjack is, as well, this heaviness is becoming a recurring theme when I'm putting effort in. Maybe the packaging is partly to blame - 4 squares in one bag become an amalgamated mess that I struggle to pull out, and eat in one sitting. More research needed. At least I've worked out that I can stomach and actually quite like powerbar gels - the only downside to them being their relative expense, and the awkward, square shape out the pouches that makes opening difficult if you're trying not to litter with the tear strip, and leaves plenty of goop in the corners if you're not careful.

Apathy was probably my biggest enemy, but I can't deny there was a certain tiredness in my legs, and the wind, though light, was certainly still effectual. Added to this the lack of water - I hadn't spotted an easy fountain, and wanted a record regardless of stops, so (perhaps inadvisably) had decided to stick to my original 1.5l of juice - and the target was by no means certain. I turned onto the north ferry road with just over 20km still to run, and went for it.

Definitely beginning to look a bit more like a cyclist ->

With the wind slightly behind, even at this late stage 35kph+ was comfortable. Coming back, 30 was more of a struggle, but I had plenty of time - I could have averaged somewhere in the 20s on the return and still come in good.

My concern became the distance. I might make 160km by the ferry port, but was that 100 miles? I couldn't remember the exact conversion. Best keep spinning until the time's up.

At 5hrs exactly, I unclipped the computer with 163.02km on the clock. 101.28 miles, 20.26mph. Done.

I know that I gamed this a little. But I also know that I could have done it better. I could have risen to worse terrain. It was far from easy, but I was also far from spent as I sat on a pier gulping tea and nibbling a scone.

Honestly, I expected to miss this. I hate missing targets, but I accept that it happens sometimes. So, I expected that I would try so, so hard at this, but still fail. And that would lead on into the event, and I'd fail there, and I'd think - it's because you fell behind your plan. Your completely silly, arbitrary plan - but a plan nevertheless.

I haven't missed it, though.

This is still possible.

Oh, dear. For the first time ever, I actually think I can do this.

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/robrideswales