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.
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